


Julerose June 2017 Collection

by takethembystorm



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, Julerose June, Julerose June 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 18:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 26,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11064858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethembystorm/pseuds/takethembystorm
Summary: A series of loosely connected drabbles in rough chronological order for Julerose June 2017.  Thanks toloosescrewsleftyfor setting this up!





	1. The Substitutes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LooseScrewsLefty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LooseScrewsLefty/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beginning or: Wherein Surprises are Had

“Rose, Juleka,” Marinette says.  She gathers them both into an enormous, simultaneous hug that squeezes the air from their lungs.  “It’s been so _long_ how have you two _been_. _”_

“Let them go, Mari,” Alya says, rolling her eyes.  “I think they’d appreciate being able to breathe.”

Alya steps forward and hugs Rose and Juleka in turn as Marinette pulls away, smiling broadly.

“It’s good to see you two,” Alya says.  “Saw your graduation photos on Facebook.  Did you do anything special to celebrate after?”

“Nah,” Juleka says.  “After the ceremony we went to the nearest ALDI, got a frozen pizza and went back to our place.”

“Ate ourselves sick, got drunk, made out, fell asleep for like, eighteen hours,” Rose says.  “Grad school was just barely worth the lack of sleep, lemme tell you.”

Marinette and Alya share a look, the movement so brief that Juleka just barely catches it and Rose misses it entirely.

“Well, let’s not stand around here all day,” Alya says.  “There’s a good restaurant nearby that I’ve been dying to go to.  Shall we catch up over lunch?”

The restaurant is packed full, but they somehow find get a table after only about twenty minutes.  They spend another hour and a half over exorbitantly expensive but admittedly very good food and some good wines.  Alya has a glass of water with lemon and Marinette a soda.

“So, anyways,” Marinette says as the lunch rush begins to empty out.  “Can you guys please keep a secret?”

Juleka blinks in bemusement.  “Certainly.”

“Of course,” Rose says, “what’s the matter?”

“Things with Nino—“ Alya says.

“—and Adrien,” Marinette chimes in.

“—have recently gotten a little bit more complicated.”

“But I thought you said that everything was going well,” Rose says.  “Oh no, wait.  Is the romance fading?  Do they seem more distant?  Is someone losing their job?”

“Rose, please let her finish,” Juleka says.

“I probably should not have phrased it like that,” Alya says, to a snort of amusement from Marinette.

“You should’ve known better, Mrs. Big Investigative Reporter Person,” Marinette says.

“Hush you,” Alya says, jabbing her lightly in the side with an elbow.

“Wait, so what’s happening then?” Juleka says.

Marinette leans in, Alya glancing around them for anyone within earshot before doing likewise.

“Please stay quiet about this,” Marinette says.

“We’re pregnant,” Alya says.

Rose squeals at glass-breaking frequencies and at deafening volumes—or would’ve done if Juleka hadn’t immediately clapped a hand over Rose’s mouth as she opened it to inhale.

“They asked you to stay quiet about it,” Juleka says as Rose shoots her a look of annoyance.  “Congratulations, you two.  How far along are you?”

“Probably about a month,” Marinette says.

“Six weeks, or thereabouts,” Alya says.  “We’re still working out how to tell the husbands, so please keep this on the down-low?”

“Of course,” Rose says.  “Of course we will, I’m so excited for you two!  Have you decided on names for them yet, or are you going to wait until you know their sex?”

“Rose, they’re not even showing yet,” Juleka says.  “I love you to pieces, but please calm down.”

“Sorry, Jules,” Rose says.

“Um,” Marinette says, fidgeting slightly in her seat, “there actually was another thing that we wanted to talk to you two about.”  She looks around them before continuing, “And now that I think about it this was probably not the best place to talk about the other thing.”

Alya pulls out her phone and starts browsing through Google Maps.  “There’s a park about ten minutes’ walk from here,” she says shortly.  “Shall we?”

They pay and leave the restaurant, filling the time with idle chatter.  The small talk becomes smaller and smaller as they approach the park, and Marinette and Alya become curiously sharper, constantly scanning their surroundings, shying at every noise, looking into what shadows there are.

They soon find themselves in a deserted little copse.  Marinette whispers something into her lapel—and was that a red streak Rose sees out of the corner of her eye?  Alya crosses her arms across her chest and leans back against a tree, still scanning the park around them, looking tense and ready to move at a moment’s notice.

“Uh,” Rose finally says, “what’s going on—“

Marinette interrupts her with a shake of her head.  “Not safe.  Explain in a moment.”

A minute passes, then five.  Ten minutes later, the red streak comes blurring back, zipping into Marinette’s light jacket with a faint electric _pop_.

“What was that?” Juleka says.

Alya relaxes a little from her ready stance.  “The reason why we’re here.”

“Once we’re further along, we’re not going to be able to do some things as, uh, _efficiently_ as we need to,” Marinette says.  “We’re going to need some help from some people, and, well, we trust you two the most.  To help us with this.”

“We’re going to need you to keep this a secret,” Alya says, her voice quiet and stern. “People _will_ get hurt if anyone else knows.”

“Uh,” Rose says.

“I feel safe in saying that neither of us has any idea what you’re talking about right now,” Juleka says.

“Maybe this will shed some light,” Alya says.  She digs a thumb underneath the fine golden chain around her neck, fishing a fishhook-shaped, orange-and-white pendant out from underneath her blouse.

Rose and Juleka both lean in, studying it closely.

“It’s a nice necklace,” Juleka says.  “Don’t see what it has to do with anything, though.”

“Looks just like—“ Rose muses absently, then freezes.  She looks up at Alya, then over at Marinette, who nods, then back at a thoroughly confused Juleka.

“You’re—“

“Yes,” Alya says.  “Rena Rogue.”

“I’m Ladybug,” Marinette says.

Juleka’s eyes grow to saucers.

“And we’d appreciate it if you could help us,” Alya says.

“It won’t be forever,” Marinette says, “just until we have our kids.  And it won’t be easy.  But we figured that you were the best choice.”

Rose and Juleka look at one another, then at their friends.

“When do we start?” Rose says.


	2. A Rocky Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Style Swap or: Wherein Rose is Disappointed

“No,” Tikki says, “you cannot have—“ the little spirit looks back at the list that Rose had prepared “—a cape, a Bugmobile, a medieval suit of armor, and a Ladybug-themed zweihander.”  They look back up at the diminutive woman.  “Can you even lift one of those?”

“Well, Ladybug gets superstrength, right?” Rose counters.  “So when I’m transformed I could.”

Tikki considers this for a moment then bobs their head in acknowledgement.  “Regardless, I can’t give you a zweihander, Rose.”

“So, just the Lucky Charm and the yoyo then?”

“At least you get something useful,” Juleka grumbles.  “I’m getting a flipping flute.”

“A _magic_ flute,” Trixx corrects.

“I don’t even know how to play the flute,” Juleka says.  “I can’t play a musical instrument more complicated than a recorder for crying out loud.”

Trixx blinks wide, uncaring eyes at Juleka, then turns to Tikki.

“I’ll trade you for—“

“ _No_.”

“I don’t know how to play the flute either,” Rose says apologetically.

Trixx slaps both paws to their face and drags them down in a gesture of strained patience.  “Four of the last five Chosen I’ve had,” they mutter.  “At this point I should just open up a music academy for you uncultured swine.”

“Uncultured what?” Juleka says.

“Stop it, Trixx,” Tikki says.  “You can’t expect every single one of them to measure up to your ideals.”

Trixx sticks their tongue out at Tikki, who rolls their eyes in response.

“Are we at least agreed on the look we’re going for?” Juleka says, trying to play peacemaker.  “I mean, no offense, Trixx, but neon orange and white and, y’know, the gigantic bat ears, are really not my style.”

“They are now,” Trixx says haughtily.

“I still want a cape,” Rose says.

Tikki sighs.


	3. The First Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miracusona or: Wherein Abeille Has Issues

“Juleka, you can open your eyes now,” Chat Noir says, his voice amused.

Juleka doesn’t.  She instead reaches out carefully with a foot until it crunches against rooftop gravel. She grinds the ball of her foot carefully into that, and, once she’s satisfied of its solidity, repeats the process with her other foot.  Only then does she release Chat.

Abeille touches down, the quiet droning _bzzzzzz_ of her wings dying away as she frowns down at Juleka.

“I,” she says after a few seconds, “have no idea what she’s doing.  Is she trying to hug the roof?”

“I think so,” Chat says.  He looks back over his shoulder and sighs.  “I’ll go help our new Ladybug catch up.”

Abeille looks Juleka— _Rena_ —up and down.

Her new outfit, after some argument with Trixx, had not included the “gigantic bat ears”.  She’d received a far smaller set of triangular ears, like Chat’s, but only tipped with black.  Her hands and feet were gloved and booted with black up past the elbows and midway up past her thighs.  The “neon orange”—Trixx had insisted that it wasn’t, but to no avail—had been replaced with a more subdued shade of burnt umber.  The white patch along her belly and the tail—the “gigantic, ridiculous peacock of a tail”—had stayed, however.

“Please get up,” Abeille says.  “You’re an embarrassment to Rena’s good name.”

“Well I’m sorry,” Rena says with as much venom as she can muster, which is about garter snake-strength, “but apparently being a superhero doesn’t cure my issues with vertigo and heights.”

“Well you’d better get used to it and fast,” Abeille says with a sniff.  “It’s kinda part of the job.”

Juleka suppresses a curse and manages to get up to a sitting position as Chat touches down next to them, supporting Rose.

Rose’s Ladybug is considerably frillier than Marinette’s had been.  In place of the open jacket is a mantlet, an encircling cloak draping down to the bottom of Rose’s shoulder blades.  In place of the skintight bodysuit is a breastplate of leathery-looking, overlapping segments spanning the full breadth of her chest and a long skirt, cut up to the thigh and with several layers of crinoline packed beneath.

“At least you look dressed for a fight,” Abeille scoffs as she turns her attention away from Rena.  “You realize that we occasionally need to hit something, right, Rose?”

“It’s good to see you again too,” Rose replies.  “Nice to see you haven’t changed.”

“Abeille,” Chat says, his gaze stern.  “Lay off of them, they’re new at this.  Besides, I’m sure Ladybug and Rena picked them to be their replacements for a reason.”

“Yes, and that reason was there was literally no one else around,” Abeille says.

“Okay, seriously, stop it,” Chat says.  “We’re a team here, regardless of who’s wearing the suit, which means we work together and that you don’t start sniping at them when they’ve done literally nothing.”

“Or we could just leave them somewhere where they can’t get in the way,” Abeille counters with faux brightness.

“Right, because that’s real conducive to having them learn the job over the next six months,” Chat says.

“And what happens when someone dies because we’re babysitting the newbies?” Abeille snaps. Chat rocks back on his heels as though she’d punched him in the face.  “I’m not having those deaths on my conscience again.”

Ladybug breaks the ringing silence left in the wake of Chloe’s words.

“Abeille,” she says quietly.  “Look, I’m sorry that we don’t measure up to your standards, but we’re all stuck here now, so can we at least try to get along?  Please?”

She gets a glare in return before Abeille turns her back on her.  Chat looks between them and opens his mouth once or twice but eventually decides against trying to broker a ceasefire.

“All right,” he sighs.  He produces two folded sheets of paper from a pocket and hands them to Ladybug and Rena. “Patrol schedules are on there; we’ll be meeting again on Sunday night to revise them in light of your schedules, but if you do need to bail get in contact with one of us.  Just remember, standard superhero rules, never give anyone any hints about your secret identity, just say you want to meet up for lunch or tea or something.”

He nods to the three of them as Ladybug and Rena secrete the papers on their persons. “Right, let’s move.  We’ve got a lot of Paris to cover and not a lot of night to do it in.”

The four of them, with some false starts, leap away into the night.


	4. The New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee Shop AU or: Wherein Juleka Has a Not-Fantastic Morning

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Juleka pants as she bursts in through the back door.  She nearly trips over a rug and faceplants into a metal table, but rights herself before her face is redecorated via blunt force trauma.  “Sorry I’m late guys.”

A tall, thin man with the general look of a hatchet around him and a neat, fussy moustache like a pickaxe turns to look at Juleka, then down at a wristwatch.

“Well,” he says.  “This is new.  Is everything all right, Juleka, we were wondering where you were.”

“Yeah, everything is fine,” Juleka says.  “One hundred percent perfect, everything is fine.”

“When you phrase it like that it maybe sounds like things aren’t fine,” he says.

“No, Jean, really, I just had a late night,” Juleka says, dropping her purse and brushing her hair back with her fingers.  She digs for a scrunchie in her back pocket; Jean pulls one out of a drawer and lobs it to her.  “A really, really late night.”

Spent mostly on rooftops playing follow-the-leader with Abeille muttering darkly under her breath, Rose occasionally doing her best imitation of an insect hitting a windshield with reference to the nearest building, and her trying to avoid looking down, but her super didn’t need to know that.

Jean’s brow furrows, then clears in sudden contemplation.  “Oh, I see,” he says.  “You and Rose were celebrating last night.  Understandable.  Just make sure that it isn’t a regular occurrence.”

Juleka blinks.

“Uh,” she says.  “Right. Celebrating.  That was what was happening.  Yeah.”

Jean throws a wink her way as she snags an apron and ties it up.  “Anyways Renée’s been covering for you at the counter.”

“All right, thanks,” Juleka says.

Juleka binds her hair back into a ponytail and moves with brisk purpose towards the front.

The front is a nightmare.  Juleka stares in horror at the swirling mass of people at the counter as the combined noise of a few dozen people, all deprived of their morning coffee, washes over her.  “Uh, Renée—“

“Oh thank god you’re here,” Renée says, turning and bustling back to the espresso machine.  “You take the register I’ll handle the drink orders and is Jane finished with her smoke break yet she’s been out there forever.”

“Uh, well she was about halfway finished when I came in.”

“Damn it.  I’ll be right back.”

With that Renée storms out, leaving Juleka to handle the teeming masses herself.

Juleka somehow manages to survive the morning, with the assistance of half a dozen mugs of strong coffee and her coworkers, once Renée manages to herd Jane back inside.

She collapses into a chair the first chance she gets.

“You look like death,” Renée says.

“Gee, thanks,” Juleka says.

“No, seriously,” Renée says, “why didn’t you just call in sick, you look about five seconds from falling over.”

“Someone needs to pay the rent,” Juleka says with a shrug.

“Uh, and?  This isn’t exactly America here.”

Juleka waves a hand in acknowledgement.  “But then, if I wasn’t here you guys would be drowning in angry customers.”

“True enough.”

“Hello?”

Juleka and Renée turn, and Juleka lights up immediately.

“Rose,” Juleka says.  “I thought you were going to be out with your parents all day.”

“Not until after lunch,” Rose says.  “So I figured that I’d check up on you, I mean, especially after last night.”

Juleka pointedly ignores Renée’s wide grin.  She shucks off her apron and tosses it to the other woman, muttering, “I’m taking my break.  And shush” before stepping out from behind the counter and taking Rose’s hand. She drags the two of them outside.

“You all right after last night?” Rose asks brightly. “I know it was rough on you.”

“I wasn’t the one faceplanting into the side of a building every two minutes,” Juleka says in a low mutter.

“Every three, thank you,” Rose says in mock hurt. “And besides, I was fine.”

“Still looked painful.”

“Also you forgot your wallet and your phone,” Rose says.

Juleka blinks in surprise.

“Huh,” she says, taking them.  “I thought my purse felt a little light.  Thanks.”

“And also Trixx,” Rose adds.  “They were still asleep on your pillow when you rushed out.”

“And still asleep now, I see,” Juleka sighs as Rose produces the quietly snoring kwami from her purse.  She takes them and secrets them away in a pocket of her jeans.  “Why did you get the nice, cooperative one?”

Tikki pokes their head out from the neck of Rose’s blouse.  “Trixx is,” they say, “a little difficult.  I’m sorry you have to deal with that so suddenly.”

“Nah,” Juleka says, waving a hand dismissively.  “They’re no trouble.”

“Even though they’ve been stealing your left socks and building a nest under one of your dressers?”

After a brief, thoughtful second Rose says, “So _that’s_ where they’ve all been going.”

It’s about then that the screaming starts.


	5. The First Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picture Perfect or: Wherein Lessons are Learned

“Well, you two certainly got here quickly,” Chat comments, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the screams of terrified bystanders and the intermittent cackling laughter of this week’s slightly peeved butterfly-powered supervillain. “Good work.”

“Will you shut up and help us get these people off the street!” one of Rena’s many clones, all of them directing the crowd away from the fight between the real Rena and the supervillain, screams at him.

Chat rolls his eyes at her but steps in and starts helping, grabbing people as they trip and righting them, wading into the crowd occasionally to pick someone up before they get trampled.  “What’s the situation?” he asks a Rena.

“Some lunatic named Picture Perfect,” she answers before a terrified man runs through her and disperses her.

“He showed up just north of the park and as soon as Ladybug and I engaged him he started heading for an open space,” another Rena from behind him continues.  “We found out why when Ladybug decided to try to use her Lucky Charm.”

“What happened?”

“She got some sort of smoke bomb?  Tear gas canister or something?  Anyways while she was standing around wondering what to do with it Picture Perfect took a photograph of her with one of those old Polaroid cameras.  She vanishes, the photo comes out, and Rose—“

“—Ladybug,” Chat says sharply with a glance towards the crowd.

“—Ladybug is trapped in it.  We managed to get it away from him but we’re having a bit of trouble actually fighting him.”

“You’re not trapped?”

“No.  The clones, uh, us, we’re keeping him busy.”

“Where is the real Rena now?”

“Two blocks north, one block northwest, tallest building on that block.”

“Thanks.”

Chat sprints off towards the indicated building, leaping atop it with practiced ease. He lands just behind an air-conditioner unit behind Rena and holds his hands up in surrender as she turns on him, flute ready to bludgeon.

“Hey, hey,” he says.  “You all right, Rena?”

“Fine, Ad—Chat,” Rena says.

“Ladybug all right?”

“Petulant and frustrated, but fine,” Rena says.  She holds up a small rectangle between her index and middle fingers; Rose, in full Ladybug regalia, waves at him from her living portraiture before sticking her tongue out at Rena.

“As far as I can make out she thinks that if I just tear this in half she’ll be released and she can give the whole fighting the supervillain thing another go in spite of how risky and stupid an idea that is.”

Chat looks at the trapped Ladybug thoughtfully.  “Been more than five minutes right?  She should’ve transformed back by now.  Maybe it freezes her in time.”

“What?”

Chat waves a hand.  “Nothing, never mind.  You’re keeping him busy fending off clones?”

“Yeah,” Rena says.

“Obviously that isn’t going to work forever, he’ll figure out that nothing there is actually capable of touching him soon enough,” Chat says.  He taps a finger to his lip thoughtfully.  “Can you stick an illusion of complete darkness around his head?  It’ll make approaching him a lot easier if he can’t see us.”

Rena grimaces.  “Chat, I’ve barely got enough control over this dumb magic flute thing to make functional copies of me, and that took six hours’ practice over two nights, _with_ Trixx correcting me at every step.”

“Hey, that’s pretty good,” Chat says.  “Took the other one about a week of practice to get there.”

“Focus, Chat,” Rena says.  “When’s Abeille going to get here?”

Chat’s expression goes somber.  “I don’t think that we can expect her help,” he says, glancing over his shoulder.  “She’s in a business meeting with Marinette and some of their backers right now, and I don’t know if she’ll be able to make her excuses and leave, even if she is aware of what’s going on.”

“Okay, so it’s just the two of us then,” Rena says.  “What’s the game plan?”

Chat studies Ladybug, then Rena.

“I’ve always preferred the direct approach,” he says.  “You remember that time when you were turned into a supervillain, back when we were in lycée?”

“Vaguely.”

“Remember how you always had that issue where you’d never show up in the school photos because you would be blocked by someone or something?”

“Thank you for reminding me of a long and terrible period of my life, but yes.”

Chat grins, suddenly and widely.  “Let’s use that to our advantage.  I’ll jump in, you keep in my silhouette and hit him.  I’ll Cataclysm my way out of the photograph and help you take him down, and once the camera’s broken we should be able to get Ladybug back so we can fix everything.”

Rena and Ladybug stare at him.

“That is a terrible plan,” Rena says.  “Why don’t we go in with a shield of my clones, they seem to be keeping him busy enough right now.”

Chat considers this.  “Clones, me, then you,” he says after a minute.  “Just to be safe, we don’t know whether the camera will work on them.”

The camera does.  As the sacrificial wall of clones is destroyed by the camera, Chat hits the ground, rolls smoothly to a low crouch, and whips his staff out in a low sweep, taking Picture Perfect’s feet out from under him.  Before the villain can react Rena comes down and stomps her heel down onto the camera, shattering it.

All around them, Polaroid photos pop into smoke, to be replaced by stunned and vaguely confused people.  A gout of smoke spurts from Rena’s collar, where she’d tucked Ladybug’s photo away, and a second later Ladybug herself is sitting comfortably on Rena’s shoulder.

“Well, that was an experience,” she remarks.  She whirls the yoyo in a practiced motion—nearly eighteen hours over two days, guided by Tikki—and snags the akuma before it can flutter away.

“All right,” Chat says at their meeting later that night.  “Good things.  Rena, good job getting everyone out of the way and getting Ladybug clear after she’d been captured.  Ladybug, good initiative going after him that quickly.”

Abeille rolls her eyes.

“Bad things.  Rena, Ladybug, remember that so long as Ladybug is standing at the end of the fight she can fix everything, no consequences.  Her abilities let her restore broken buildings, restore people who’ve been hurt or transformed or even killed, knit the world back together after whatever reality-twisting yahoo with superpowers has twisted it into a pretzel. So you need to keep her safe at all costs.  You understand?”

“Keep Ladybug safe,” Rena says.

“No consequences,” Ladybug echoes.

Abeille sniffs.  Chat throws a sharp look her way.

“But, all in all, a good showing for your first fight,” Chat says.  “Well done.”

Rena and Ladybug beam.


	6. The Summer of Their Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summertime or: Wherein There Is a Parade

Smile and wave, Juleka thinks, just smile and wave.

She and Rose, and Chat, and Abeille beside them, smile and wave at the cheering crowds surrounding them as the impromptu parade proceeds down the street.  A woman holds her baby up to them; Ladybug picks the little girl up and gives her a kiss on the forehead before handing her back. A man hops up and down in an attempt to take a selfie with all four of them, but fails to get close enough thanks to the press of the crowd.  He settles for taking a picture before he struggles back through the swarming mass of people, shouting excitedly to someone or other.

Juleka relaxes a little as the movements become more or less automatic.  Shuffle forwards a step or two as space allows, smile, wave, pose briefly if someone gets close enough for a selfie, et cetera. It leaves her mind free to reflect.

Things were good.  They’d fought three supervillains and taken down three supervillains with minimal collateral damage each time, and in return they got to bask in the undying adoration of all of Paris.  Patrol was becoming less and less of a chore, although she was still having major issues with the vertigo bit—but even then she was making progress, and so was Rose with the Ladybug-ing, and Abeille was warming up to them, she was sure, although given that this was Chloe it was anyone’s guess as to whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.  The weather had been curiously cool this summer too, which was a welcome bonus.

Juleka glances over at Rose as she kneels to take a selfie with a girl, her hands and cheeks still chubby with baby fat.  The girl’s face shines with unadulterated joy as Rose shakes her hand and smiles.

And of course the general consensus was that even if the new Rena and Ladybug weren’t the old Rena and Ladybug that everyone knew and loved, that they were still more than up to the job of keeping the general public safe.

Rose notices Juleka’s attention and looks back at her, smiling.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she says.

Juleka shakes her head, still smiling.  “Nothing much,” she says.

This was turning out perfectly.


	7. No Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comedy and Tragedy or: Wherein Ladybug Gets Very Drunk

Abeille finds Ladybug on a rooftop overlooking the river.  She buzzes down, touching lightly down behind her colleague, her arms crossed across her chest.

“There you are,” she snaps.  “Rena said you’d be late but not that you’d be skipping out entirely.  Honestly, you would’ve been better off just coming out and saying it outright instead of dancing around the point like this.”

“Sorry,” Ladybug mumbles.

Abeille pauses.

“Uh,” she says after some thought.  “You aren’t okay, are you.”

Ladybug manages a little, damp laugh.  “No, not really.”

Another pause ensues as Abeille considers this listless, lifeless response.

“Uh,” she says.  Another pause.  “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“No, no,” Ladybug says, “it’s all right.  I’ll be better soon, I’ll be fine.”

Abeille sits down next to her, her legs dangling off the edge of the roof, and idly kicks her feet out—left, right, left, right.

“It was that kid from earlier today, wasn’t it,” she says.  Ladybug flinches and hugs her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly against herself.

“Thank you, Chloe, but I don’t need the reminder,” Ladybug says.

Abeille is silent for a minute.  “I never told you about my first time out as Abeille, didn’t I?”

“Of course not.”

Abeille reaches back and pulls one of her tops free, rolling it over and over in her fingers as she stares at the skyline.  “When I first got my Miraculous I was with the angels.  Like, come on, an opportunity to fight side by side with _the_ Ladybug?  Well, Marinette’s Ladybug, not you, obviously.  Like, come on, you’re still running face-first into walls half the time, that’s just embarrassing.  Not to mention a potential liability in a fight.”

She tosses the top into the air with a flick of her wrist and catches it in her palm, watching its spin with distant, cat-like attention.

“Anyways, I got my Miraculous and I showed up to help Ladybug the first chance I got. I don’t remember the exact supervillain. I just remember that I showed up and I was thinking that I’d blow everyone away with how awesome and amazing and super-competent I’d be and that they’d have parades for me by the end of the week.”

The top spins to a halt and falls over.  Abeille tosses it over her shoulder and leans forward, resting her elbows on her thighs.

“Of course about thirty seconds after I showed up I nearly had a bus land on my head, and about two seconds after that Ladybug had to swing in and get me out of the way.”

Ladybug turns her head slightly, so that she can see Abeille out of the corner of her eye.

“Because Ladybug was busy saving me, she couldn’t make it in time when the bus rolled over and hit a kid behind me,” Abeille says.  “She and Chat got it off of her in seconds, of course, but it was too late by then.”

“They left me to take care of her while they fought off the supervillain,” she continues. “She died from internal bleeding, in my arms, while I tried to keep her calm.”

“Oh, _Chloe_ ,” Ladybug whispers.

“Her name is Marina Dubois,” Abeille continues.  “She’s fourteen now, but she wouldn’t have been if Marinette hadn’t brought her back.”

Ladybug broaches the silence between them after a little while.

“I don’t know his name,” she says.  “And it wasn’t that dramatic.  He was just there one second and just—gone, just a thing that used to be alive the next.” She shudders and curls into a tighter ball.  “Adrien said that there wouldn’t be any consequences.  As long as there was a Ladybug around to fix things, then at the end of the day there wouldn’t be any consequences.”

Abeille shrugs.  “Adrien tends to take a bit of an optimistic view on things,” she says.

Ladybug sniffs and wipes at her eyes.  “Does it ever get better?”

“No,” Abeille says.  “I still see her face in my nightmares sometimes.  Even after I’ve checked and double-checked and triple-checked that she’s still all right.”

“They give that spiel about how ‘this power is a responsibility’ when you joined up?” she continues after a beat.

“Yes,” Ladybug says.

“I don’t think they know how wrong about that they are,” Abeille says.  “It’s not a responsibility, it’s a shackle.  Once you understand just how much damage one homicidal maniac with a Miraculous can do, you can’t ever turn away.”

Ladybug shrinks in a little further on herself.  Abeille stands and brushes herself off, collecting her top and hooking it back onto her hip.

Abeille studies Ladybug for a moment.

“Oh, fuck patrol,” she says.  She grabs Ladybug by the arm and hauls her to her feet.  “Let’s go get drunk.”

“So you’re telling me,” Adrien says to Rose and Chloe the next day, “that the two of you went bar-hopping, got blackout drunk, participated in a very public and very out-of-tune karaoke session that’s gotten around a million views on Youtube already, and then passed out on a rooftop until dawn?”

Rose and Chloe groan in assent from behind their sunglasses.

Adrien and Marinette look at each other.

“Well, we can at least give them breakfast,” Marinette sighs.


	8. Gryffindor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter AU or: Wherein They Take a Quiz

“You know,” Rose says as she and Juleka spoon on their couch, watching the best of Daniel Radcliffe as an eleven-year-old, “these movies lose some of their charm when you actually have magic superpowers of your own and you’re about a hundred times as competent.”

“They _are_ kids,” Juleka says.

“So were Mari and Adrien when they started.”

“In fairness they didn’t have a magical reset button at their disposal—uh, Rose?”

“It’s nothing,” Rose says.  “Hey, if we got sorted which houses do you think we’d be in?”

“Don’t they have quizzes for that?” Juleka says.

There’s a thoughtful pause, followed by some busy tapping on their phones as the movie plays on in the background.

“Huh,” Juleka says.  “Ravenclaw. Wasn’t expecting that.”  She squints a little closer at the screen.  “‘Ravenclaw House prizes learning, wisdom, wit, and intellect in its members,’ I was kinda expecting Hufflepuff.  You, Rose?  Uh, Rose?”

Juleka peers over Rose’s shoulder.  “Gryffindor?”

“I don’t feel very Gryffindor right now.”

Juleka rolls her eyes at Rose and kisses her on the crown of her head.  “You’re _the_ Ladybug, babe.  On top of that you’re a superhero and you fight supervillains with freaky scary powers that make the average person run away in terror, probably pissing their pants.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m a Gryffindor.”

“Oh come on, _Neville_ is a Gryffindor,” Juleka says.  “And he’s a complete coward—yes, I know that he gets better but we’re watching _The Philosopher’s Stone_ here, it was the nearest point of reference.”

“It’s not being a coward that I’m afraid of,” Rose says.  “What if I’m just not good enough?  What if I’m just not good enough to be Mari’s replacement?  How many people are going to pay the price for that?”

“None,” Juleka says instantly.

“Just because Tikki brings them back doesn’t mean that those people were never hurt, or that no damage was ever done,” Rose counters.

Juleka sighs and hugs Rose a little tighter.

“You remember the first time Marinette went out as Ladybug?”

“Vaguely, yeah.”

“You remember that skyscraper that Ivan took down?”

Rose frowns.  “Where are you going with this, Jules?”

“I’m saying that maybe you’re being a little too hard on yourself,” Juleka says. “You’re expecting perfection on your first day on the job when you shouldn’t be.  And that maybe you be a little easier on yourself.  I mean, no skyscraper’s been destroyed so far since we became Rena and Ladybug, right?”

“Yeah, okay,” Rose concedes, with what Juleka thinks is suspicious ease.  “Yeah, you’re right.”


	9. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gift or: Wherein Juleka’s Patience Runs Out

“Okay, that’s it.”

Rose finds herself hauled unceremoniously from their bed by Juleka, hoisted over a shoulder with a grunt of effort, and taken out to the little kitchenette in their apartment.

“I am sick and tired of you moping around like this, Rose,” Juleka continues as she plops Rose down into a chair and pulls up her laptop.  She taps rapidly, clicks twice, and turns the screen towards Rose.

Rose squints at the screen from within her blanket cocoon, then up at Juleka.  “What’s this about, Jules?”

“I talked to Adrien and Chloe,” Juleka said, “about how weird you’ve been on patrol recently.  Chloe told me everything.  Now, before you say anything ridiculous, read.”

Rose squints at Juleka for another second, then back at the screen.

“Dear Ladybug,” she reads, “Thank you for coming to our school on Tuesday.  It really meant a lot to me when you said that you thought that my drawing of you and Chat Noir and Abeille and Rena was—what is this, Jules?”

“Keep reading,” Juleka says, implacably.

Rose frowns at her, then scrolls a little further down the screen.

“Dear Ladybug,” she reads.  “Thank you for staying to talk to me about my bullies and for talking to my school about them.  They don’t bother me much anymore.  Also, I am sorry for trying to blow up you and your friends and also for burning down the school.”

“They’re thank-you letters,” Juleka says as Rose scrolls further down.  “Six hundred and twenty-eight of them.  Alya collects them on the Ladyblog, which you haven’t been reading.”

Juleka sits down next to Rose at their dining table.  “Look, I get that you’re worried that you’re not going to live up to Marinette’s legacy.  But I think that you’re missing the point.  You’re a gift to Paris and the world, Rose, just like Marinette before you and every Ladybug before you.”

She reaches out and wipes away some of the tears that had begun sliding silently down Rose’s cheeks.  “You’re good _enough_ , Rose.  That’s all that matters.  That’s all that’s important.”

“Are you sure?” Rose croaks.

“I’m sure,” Juleka says.  She gestures at the laptop.  “And six hundred and twenty-eight other people are sure.”

Rose looks down, biting at her lip.

“Thank you,” she says finally.


	10. Prudence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bump in the Night or: Wherein Juleka Freaks Out and Rose is Nearly Clubbed

Juleka wakes with a snort, the world fuzzy around the edges as her brain tries to piece together the tattered shreds of reality her three of five operational senses are feeding her.

Okay, so it’s dark, and she’s in a bed.  A bed. Probably her bed, although that would need to wait for further evidence.  A weirdly strawberry-smelling, sharp and chemical smell on her pillow, and on this other pillow next to hers.

Juleka rolls over and sprawls across the bed.  There are two simultaneous, indignant squeaks.  Something else to put in the “weird” column, since last she checked she didn’t have a queen size, she’s never owned anything larger than a twin. It’s a very nice and soft bed though, aside from those two lumps, and under the sheets and with the night sighing in with the midnight breeze almost sauna warm.

Something creaks outside.  Something clanks.  Juleka is suddenly very awake and very focused on whatever the fuck had caused that noise.

She slides carefully out of bed, her footsteps light on the floorboards, and tiptoes her way to the wall.  She presses herself flat against it and listens.

More creaking as whomever it is moves around the only other room in the apartment. More clanking and some quiet thuds as they open cabinets and rattle kitchenware.

Juleka looks around the bedroom and spots the old fireplace poker that she’d scavenged from one of her neighbors back during college, leaning against her nightstand. She tiptoes over to it and hefts it in both hands.

The clanking and creaking continues as Juleka edges her way to the door, moving slowly in spite of the hammering beat of her heart.  She raises the poker, ready to swing, as the creaking of footsteps across their floor approaches the door.

Rose has a quarter of a second to see Juleka and the poker whistling towards her before she drops flat on the floor.  The mug of water she’d been holding smashes next to her as the poker’s iron hook tears into the door, gouges a long slash through the plywood, and stops, shuddering slightly.

“Holy _fuck,_ ” Rose says, wiping at her eyes.  Juleka blinks in horror at Rose and pulls the poker from the door, tossing it behind her onto the bed.

“Rose, I am so sorry,” Juleka says.  She flicks on the bedroom light and helps Rose to her feet, both of them navigating carefully around the small minefield of sharp-edged ceramic shards.  “I thought there was a burglar or something, are you okay?”

“Damp,” Rose says.  “Thoroughly surprised.”

“I am so sorry.”

“You’ve said that already,” Rose says.  She looks at the door and sighs.  “Well, we’ll need to replace that.  Can you mop it up, I’ll get the broom.”

“I,” Juleka says as she ducks into their bathroom and comes out again with a pair of towels, “am _so_ sorry, Rose.”

Rose rolls her eyes and kisses Juleka on a cheek.

“I’m _fine_ , Jules,” she says


	11. A Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Top of the World or: Wherein Juleka Makes Plans

“This is because you nearly brained me with the poker, isn’t it?” Rose says.

“Not entirely,” Juleka says.  “I mean, we haven’t been on a date in a while thanks to work and the whole—“ Juleka glances around and lowers her voice “—superheroing business and everything, I figured that we could beg a night to ourselves.”

“I told you,” Rose says, “it was an honest accident, no one got hurt, no big deal, right?”

“Maybe if the ‘accident’ wasn’t me swinging a poker at your head,” Juleka says.  “Rose, please just let me make it up to you.”

Rose considers this, tapping a finger on her chin in thought.

“Well,” she says eventually.  “I mean, we’re waiting outside the restaurant already waiting for a table.”  She grins toothily at Juleka, who returns it.  “Sure.”

Something explodes nearby.  Rose and Juleka stand with their fixed smiles as the crowd looks, decides on screaming, and then decides on running.

“God _damnit_ , _”_ Juleka sighs.  She looks around them for a convenient bush to hide behind.  “Well, there goes our evening.”

The fight takes most of the night and spans the breadth of Paris and three or four times the limits of Juleka’s patience.

“Are we done now?” she asks Chat as Ladybug fumbles her yoyo from her hip and opens it.

“Almost,” he says, gesturing to Ladybug.

“Fantastic,” Rena grumbles.  “Ro—Ladybug, meet me at the top of the Eiffel Tower?  I’ll be around in a bit.”

“Uh, sure,” Ladybug says.  “See you there.”

“Can we please make sure we don’t have another dozen of these guys breathing down our necks before you two get all lovey-dovey?” Abeille says as Rena leaps away, Ladybug’s gaze trailing after.

Rose dawdles in an alleyway while Tikki refuels, then transforms and leaps away, swinging towards the great iron bulk of the Tower.

At the top of the spire she finds a hastily set up table—their dining table—a few candles, and several boxes of takeout.  Juleka stands next to the disheveled assembly, hands folded in front of her; Trixx is fumbling with a match as they try to light one of the candles.

“Sorry that we couldn’t make the restaurant,” she says, grinding the toe of a shoe into the floor.  “But I still wanted to do something special for you.  And I mean, well, it’s almost sunrise.  We could watch it?  And then go home and get some sleep?  I can call in sick to work and we can spend the rest of the day together.”

Ladybug smiles broadly at the scene.  She looks at Juleka, then at the steadily brightening horizon, then back at Juleka. She walks over, unraveling her transformation as she does, stretches up on tiptoe, and kisses her on a cheek.

“That sounds perfect,” Rose says.


	12. A Cinderella Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stroke of Midnight or: Wherein Abeille Has Shoe Trouble

“Run!” Abeille shouts.

The four of them scatter as, cackling madly, the supervillain who had announced himself with childlike glee—because, Rena notes as she takes cover behind a nearby bit of architecture and summons up a double dozen of illusory clones, he was, in fact, a child—fires a barrage of blue-tinged lasers at them.  Probably no older than six or seven.  It didn’t really change what they needed to do, but it was something to note.

Rena whistles up another dozen Abeilles, Chats, and Ladybugs each and sends them out to encircle the supervillain, forcing him back against a building.

Abeille touches down a few meters away from Rena, stumbling a little as she slows to a stop.  Chat skids to a stop next to them and presses himself against the wall.

“All right,” Chat says.  “Abeille, do you know their powers?”

“This one’s dangerous,” Abeille says.  “Really dangerous.”

“Yes, we can see that,” Rena says.

“I just felt the need to emphasize how careful we need be around this guy,” Abeille says, “and how hard we need to take him down.”

“Abeille, what’s his power,” Chat says.

Abeille holds up a pair of black stiletto heels with a slightly raised, gold-embossed hexagonal pattern.  One is visibly smaller than the other; the heel is broken off.

“He ruined my favorite shoes,” Abeille wails.  “He just came into the ball that Papa was throwing and started zapping people and he ruined my shoes.”

Rena groans and just manages to resist the urge to facepalm.  Chat doesn’t.

“Okay,” he says after a second spent staring at the sky.  “So he’s just got the ability to make your shoes not fit. Obviously he is a clear and present danger to the public—“

“Obviously,” Abeille says.

“—so let’s just get in there and wrap this up and get this over with,” Chat says. “It’s nearly midnight and I’d like to get back to my wife and the movie we were watching.”

“Seconded,” Rena says.

“Rena, where’s Ladybug?” Chat says.

Rena points to a nearby rooftop; Ladybug pokes her head out above the parapet, sees the three of them, and waves.

“All right, on three then,” Chat says.  He holds up a closed fist, signaling to Ladybug.  “One.  Two.  Three!”

The four of them find themselves hobbling away five minutes later.

“Okay,” Chat says, struggling to walk with one too-big boot flopping around his foot and another tightly and painfully constricted around his ankle.  “So he’s a little bit more of threat than I thought he’d be.”

Abeille shoots him a dirty look and sniffs.

“Anyways,” Chat says.  “The akuma is probably in his tiara, that’s where the lasers are coming from.  Rena and I will run interference, Ladybug, immobilize him, Abeille, get the tiara.”

They all jump as a great, rolling, sonorous noise thuds into them.

“Oh, it’s just Notre Dame,” Ladybug notes after a second.

“Midnight,” Chat grumbles.  “All right, let’s get this over with so we can all go home.”

They awkwardly sneak out of their cover under the cover provided by Rena’s clones and position themselves.

Chat is of course the first to be zapped as they rush in; he stumbles, but manages to catch himself in a roll before scuttling crabwise behind cover.  One of Rena’s clones—a Ladybug—drops down next to him.

“You all right?” she asks.  “What happened?”

“Don’t know,” Chat says.  “Got hit by that laser and all of a sudden I was hobbling.  I’m not in any pain or anything.”

They look down at Chat’s feet.

“You paint your toenails?”

Chat wiggles his toes.  Each toenail is painted a different, fetching shade of green.

“Mari stays up late these nights,” he says.  “It relaxes her.  More importantly, what happened?”

The real Ladybug hops down next to them and takes a moment to study them.

“Oh!” she says, her expression brightening.  Chat and Clonebug look at her, expectantly.

“Cinderella,” she says.  “The costume matches, his only power is to make your footwear not fit and to remove some of it, but only after midnight.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Clonebug says.  “Doesn’t mean that he can’t still hobble us, but it’s good to know that he’s not really capable of anything too dangerous—“

“Are you guys done with the gossip session yet,” Abeille says from behind them.  “I have the stupid tiara let’s go already.”

Cleanup tends to be swift and mostly undramatic when magical reset superpowers are involved.

“Hey,” Ladybug says as she sits on the sidewalk beside the boy so recently costumed and cackling.  He curls up a little tighter on himself.  The folds of his blue dress rustle as he shifts.  “What’s your name?”

The boy looks up at her, then back down.  He mumbles something.

“Jacques. Nice to meet you,” Ladybug says.  “Were you angry, Jacques?  When the butterfly came for you?”

Jacques nods.

“Do you mind telling me why?”

He looks up at Ladybug again, then back down at his feet.

“They made fun of me.”

“For your dress?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a very pretty dress,” Ladybug says.  “I like it.”

“You really think so?” Jacques says.

“I do,” Ladybug says.   “It looks good on you.”

Jacques studies her expression for any sign of adult, vaguely maternal duplicity.  A slow, shy smile blooms across his face as he finds only open, honest interest and a smidge of concern.

“Thank you, Madamoiselle,” he says.

Ladybug flashes him a smile, as brief and bright as summer lightning.

“I like your tiara, too.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“Tell you what, do you want to take some photos with us?” Ladybug says.  She looks over her shoulder at Chat and Rena and Abeille.

“I’d like that,” Jacques says.

Photos take a little while, and getting the post-midnight crowd to disperse takes a little while longer.  The four of them eventually make it to a nearby rooftop for a breather.

“You did well,” Chat says as they attempt small talk.

“Well, obviously,” Abeille says.  “Oh, wait, you were talking about the newbies.”

“We’ve been doing this job for three months now,” Rena says.

“And we’ve been at this for years,” Abeille sniffs.  “Still.  Newbies.”

Chat rolls his eyes at them as they start to argue.  “Anyways, seriously.  Saw you talking to the kid while we handled the authorities.”

“I was only doing what you and Mari do all the time,” Ladybug says.

Chat shrugs.  “Doesn’t change the fact that you took the time to make him feel better.  So, again, you did well.”

“Thanks,” Ladybug says.

“I had a talk with Mari,” Chat continues.  “We’d appreciate it if you and Jacques could come to our next fashion show.  I think he’d enjoy it.”

Ladybug smiles.  “I’m sure he will.”


	13. Best Foot Forwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <3 or: Wherein Rose Attends a Networking Event

“Okay, so I’ve got my phone on vibrate, but I’ve got it in my pocket so you should be able to reach me,” Rose says as she slips into her ruby red pumps.  “Check me for lint?”

Juleka tries not to oogle her girlfriend too much as she looks her, in her close-fitting, modestly-cut black dress, lace at the neck and hem and sleeves, a golden pendant at the hollow of her throat, up and down.

“Front’s good,” she says after a minute.

“Really,” Rose says dryly.  “Are you sure about that, or did you just make sure that my boobs were immaculate?”

“Hush,” Juleka says.  “Turn around?”

Juleka is a little less circumspect about oogling this time around.

“Some,” she says eventually.  “Hand me the lint roller?”

“You’re just looking for an excuse to grab my butt, aren’t you,” Rose says as Juleka starts working on a particular section of her dress.  “Jules, please, I really need this thing to go well.”

“No, no,” Juleka says, “there really is a bit of dust here.  I’m just making sure to get it all off.”

“Mmhm.” Rose crosses her arms and taps her foot as Juleka continues to work.

After a minute she says, quietly, “Are you sure that you’ll be okay?  I mean, I can reschedule if we need to—“

“No, you can’t,” Juleka says.  She unsticks the lint roller from Rose’s dress with a _shrrrrp_.  “I mean, it’s in an hour and a half, it’s a bit late to just walk away from it now.”

“But what if there’s an attack while I’m stuck at this thing?”

“No ifs, Rose,” Juleka says, her tone firm but gentle.  “This’ll be good for your career, and the three of us can hold off any supervillain for as long as you need.  It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“If you really need to disappear for a while,” Tikki chimes in, “you can always say that you’re going to the restroom.  Marinette used to use that excuse a lot before she and Adrien decided to reveal themselves to one another.”

Rose worries at her lip, looking between them.  “You two are sure that it’ll be fine if I go?”

“Rose, for the last time, yes,” Juleka says.  “Now go, network, impress people with that big brain of yours, get their contact information, seduce them, et cetera.  And yes,” she adds as Rose makes to speak again, “I will text you if there’s anything urgent.”

Rose smiles down at Juleka, who stands and kisses her, once on the forehead and once, chastely and softly, on the lips.  “Now come on, I’ll see you to the train station.  Here, don’t forget your clutch.”

Tikki zips into the clutch as Rose checks, and double-checks, and triple-checks before Juleka makes a sound halfway between impatient and amused, for Tikki’s emergency cookie supply, her makeup, and her supply of business cards.  She pats her pocket, making sure that her phone is still where she’d left it, then nods at Juleka.

“All right,” Rose says.  She offers her arm to Juleka, who takes it, gallantly.  “Shall we?”

The walk to the station is pleasantly uneventful, and Rose soon makes it to the venue.  It’s initially empty only for the caterers, but soon fills with well-dressed people—some businesspeople, some speakers, some industry representatives, and the rest slightly desperate-, vaguely hyena-looking graduate and post-graduate students, either guarding their positions at the caterer’s table or vying for thirty seconds with the men and women who might change their lives.

Rose’s phone buzzes against her thigh and she stiffens.  She fishes around in her pocket as she backs up against the nearest wall, digging out her phone, and reads the brief message.

“From: Juleka Couffaine

Have fun networking! <3”

Rose lets out a little, involuntary “aw” at seeing the heart; Tikki wriggles their head free of the clutch and looks questioningly up at Rose.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Rose says.  “Juleka just texted me.”  She shows the message to the spirit, who coos.

“You two really are a good fit for each other,” Tikki says.

“I’m glad you think so,” Rose says.  “Excuse me?”

Rose shoves and elbows her way to the center of the throng long enough to exchange business cards and have a short conversation with a few industry representatives before she retires to a dark corner of the room.

“Tikki, how are you doing?” Rose asks, keeping her voice low.

“Just fine, thank you,” Tikki whispers back.  “I’d like it if you could get me a couple more of those white chocolate macadamia cookies, though.”

Rose allows herself a quiet smile.  “Marinette wasn’t kidding when she said that you ate a lot.  I’ll see what I can do.”

She takes a step towards the caterer’s table.

Four gunmen in ski masks and lugging large duffels burst in through a side door.


	14. Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cops and Robbers or: Wherein There is Gunfire

Adrien hums to himself as he pours the cake batter carefully into a set of springform pans, one after the other.  His phone, on the counter next to him, lights up and plays a cheery tune as he places the mixing bowl under the tap.  He gives his hands a quick rinse, dries them, and answers.

“Hey, Juleka,” Adrien says.  “How’ve you been, what’s new—“

His smile freezes, then shatters.

“Okay,” he says.  “Okay. Yeah.  Understood.  What’s the address?”

He glances around for something to write with, fails to see anything, and resorts to tracing out the address on the kitchen counter with batter.

“All right,” he says.  “No, I don’t want you to go in, confirm that Rose is safe and rendezvous with us two blocks south.  No, Juleka, this is non-negotiable, this is a hostage situation, not a commando raid.   _No,_ Juleka.  No, if we don’t pull this off perfectly people are going to die, we can’t go in guns blazing. Yes.  ETA ten minutes.  All right.”

Marinette pokes her head into the kitchen as Adrien pockets his phone and starts moving towards the door.  “Who was that?”  She examines his grim expression with worry.

“Juleka,” Adrien says, picking up his keys.  “Four gunmen, hostage situation.  They’ve got bags of money with them, looks like it’s a bank robbery gone wrong.”

“How do—“ Marinette begins, her brow wrinkling in bemusement.  Her face goes grey a second later as the pieces click into place.  “Who?”

“Rose,” Adrien says.  “The address is on the counter, tell Chloe to rendezvous with us two blocks south of the building.”

“Stay safe, Adrien.”  Marinette leans in on tiptoe and kisses him quickly.  “And get them out safe.”

He manages a brief, wan smile.  “As you command, my lady.”

The trip takes him a little under eight minutes, and when he gets there he finds Rena and Abeille waiting for him.

“Real Rena’s scouting the perimeter,” the Rena clone says without preamble.  “Safe distance away, don’t worry, she’s not visible from the ground floor.  Rose says that they’ve taken all the hostages into a side room, there’s two guys guarding them, but she managed to hide, and she’s safe.”

Chat Noir lets out a relieved breath.  “All right, then.  One less thing to worry about.”

Rose sits at the back of the group of hostages, watching.  When they’d found her they’d taken her phone and her clutch, but she still had Tikki, at least, secreted down the front of her dress.  And Rena and Chat and Abeille were probably outside right now planning on how they were going to take these guys out, and she’d just heard the gendarmes pulling up, so they’ve got backup and probably hostage negotiators and maybe they’d resolve this entire thing before—

“Let us go or we start shooting the hostages!” someone at the front screams. It’s followed by a short rattle of gunfire.

Or they were all going to die.

Rose fights to keep her breathing even as the rest of the people around her begin a spontaneous, terrified shuffle towards the back wall.

“Jesus, man,” one of the gunmen mutters, compulsively checking and rechecking his weapon as the shorter _krak-krak-kraks_ of police handguns echoes through the building.  “I thought this was just supposed to be an in and out job, not that we were going to need to shoot our way through an army of cops.”

“Can it, Raph,” the other gunman mutters.

“Look,” one of the industry representatives, an older woman with her black hair streaked with grey, says as she stands.  “Look, you are reasonable men.  Let these people go, they’re just—“

“Shut up, lady,” Raphaël the gunman says.

“—you don’t need all these hostages,” the woman continues to argue, gesturing.  “Please, just let them go.  Keep a few of us, that’s all you’ll need—“

“I said shut up, lady!”  Raphaël flicks the safety on his gun off and points it at her.  The barrel shakes as the woman raises her hands, slowly, but remains standing.

“Let them leave,” the woman pleads.  The shaking becomes worse.  “Please just let them leave, they don’t need to be here.”

“Shut up and sit down!” Raphaël screams.  “Or I swear to god I’ll shoot you!  I will!”

“Please—“ the woman begins.

She never gets a chance to finish her sentence.

“Transform me!” Rose shouts, and dives in front of her.

Hot, vicious pain spikes through her just over her heart; a pair of nails get driven into her ears as the thunderclap report of the man’s weapon fills the tiny room. Someone—a lot of someones—starts screaming, the sound tinny through her sudden deafness.

Ladybug looks at the gunmen.  The gunmen look at her in shock and surprise.

Then they both raise their weapons and open fire.

The spinning shield of her yoyo flashes up and intercepts the hail of lead, deflecting the bullets up and into the ceiling.  She dives forwards in a roll.

As the nameless gunman hastily backs up she comes up to a knee and whips the yoyo up and out, winding it around Raphaël’s arm and neck.  With a shout and a surge of strength she hurls him into a wall—through a wall, through the piping in the wall, and through the drywall behind that, with snapping _cr-craks_ almost as loud as the gunfire.

A pair of shots ricochet off of the crown of Rose’s head and her shoulder with their separate little bursts of pain.  Right, there was still the other gunman to handle.

Ladybug lashes out with a superhumanly swift hammer blow at the other man’s knee but misses as he takes a few quick steps back.  No matter.  She braces herself and pulls, hard, with her other arm.

The man she’d sent through the wall comes flying back through the gaping hole she’d made with his now mostly limp, stunned-senseless body.  He hits the floor, skids and rolls a little, and hits his friend.

Nothing so dramatic as his earlier wrecking-ball impression happens—the other gunman merely stumbles a little, cursing.  But it gives her enough time.  Enough time, specifically, to rise, step across the intervening space, seize him by the gun hand, and break his wrist.

The man screams in pain and drops the gun, but Ladybug doesn’t give him a reprieve. She drives a knee into his groin, grabs him by an arm, and with a quick turn throws him to the floor before she kicks him in the temple, knocking him clean out.

Another few thunderclaps rock the room, and Ladybug stumbles as bright spots of pain stab through her back—the other two gunmen, she’d forgotten about the other two gunmen.

The yoyo responds to her will, untying itself and springing to her hand, and she flicks it out at them in a wide, unaimed arc that misses them entirely, but at least makes them flinch.  She uses that valuable half second to close the distance.

The fight ends somewhat quickly after that.

“Is everyone all right?” Ladybug asks as she drags the two groaning, weakly struggling men over to the other two.  She props them up on each other and ties them firmly together with her yoyo.

A younger man, sobbing with relief, throws himself at her.  Ladybug just only catches him, supporting him by the elbows while he cries into her shoulder.

“Uh, okay,” she says.  “Is everyone okay?”

A chorus themed on variations of “yes” and “I think I’m fine” and “oh thank you god, oh sweet jesus, oh god” rises up from the crowd.

“Right then,” Ladybug says.  “Let’s get out of here.”

“So, I’ve contacted Alya and she’ll be running a misinformation campaign to sidetrack anyone who might be trying to connect the dots between Rose and you,” Chat tells Ladybug as they make their exit a couple hours later.  “Spoke to the paramedics and zero serious injuries aside from those you inflicted on the robbers.”

“How are they?”

“Three concussions, one broken wrist, bruises, minor lacerations,” Chat says.  “I’d say that’s minimum enough force.  Well done.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyways, I know you guys aren’t up on the patrol schedule for the next couple of days,” Chat continues, “so see you guys later?  Hopefully under better circumstances.”

“Hopefully.”

Ladybug and Rena part with a wave.

“Oh my god that was terrifying,” Ladybug says after a minute of leaping over rooftops. “I’m shaking.  I’m fucking shaking.  Am I bleeding?  I think I’m bleeding I got shot a few times I don’t know if I’m bleeding—“

Rena skids to a stop on a high-rise apartment complex’s roof and grabs Ladybug by the shoulders.

“Rose, chill,” Rena says.  “Breathe. You’re fine.  You did great.  Everyone got out and no one got hurt.  You did great.”

Ladybug breathes, blinks, and looks up at Rena, and at Juleka behind the mask.

“I did, didn’t I?” she says, a wide smile spreading across her face.

“Yes,” Rena says.  “Now how about we go out to celebrate?”

“Yeah,” Ladybug says, after mulling the possibility over.  “Yeah, that sounds good.”


	15. Bedridden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bedridden or: Wherein Rose Regrets Her Choice in Sushi

“Yeah,” Juleka says into her cell.  “Yeah, no, she’s been throwing up since last night.  Yeah, if she doesn’t get any better I’ll take her to hospital.  No, yeah, I agree—“ she covers the mouthpiece and shouts towards the bathroom “— _unlike some people_ I don’t think she’ll be well enough to meet up at the bar tonight.  No, yeah.  Oh, no, don’t worry about it, it’s probably just food poisoning from that sushi place we went to last night to celebrate.  No.  No, yeah. Yeah, thanks, I’ll tell her.  All right, thanks.  Thanks.  You too. Bye.”

_hurggggghgleee_

Some wet splashing noises follow.

Juleka sighs, pockets her cell phone, and walks into the bathroom, where Tikki and Trixx are holding Rose’s hair out of her face as she takes a close look at what she’d tried to have for breakfast, which was about half a can of chicken noodle soup.

“You feeling any better?” Juleka asks.

Rose flushes and manages to get to her feet.  She rinses her face off in the sink with cold water before answering, “I feel fine, Jules, thanks.”

Juleka looks at Rose—a couple shades paler than usual, her legs and arms shaking as she tries to support her own weight, eyes bloodshot—and cocks a brow at her.

“I am, honest,” Rose says.

“Right,” Juleka says.  “Sure.” She gathers Rose’s slight form up in her arms and carries her back to their bed.  “Now I called the others and Chloe’s free for today, she’ll be stopping by in an hour or so to watch you when I head off to work.”

“Chloe?” Rose groans.  “Really?”

“Alya and Marinette can’t be around you, in case it’s a bug and not just that dodgy unagi you had yesterday,” Juleka says.  “Adrien’s got work all day, Ivan and Mylene are still on their third honeymoon in Italy, Kim and Max both have work, Alix is in South America, and Nathaneal has a deadline coming up in two days and is working overtime.”

She crosses her arms over her chest.  “Chloe’s it, Rose, I’m sorry.”

Juleka tucks Rose in, fending off her weak protests, and drags the bucket they normally use for mop water within easy reach.  “Now, I’m going to go make something for you to eat before Chloe gets here, because frankly right now I don’t trust you around the stove, and I’m not sure if Chloe’s ever had anything to eat in her life that wasn’t prepared by someone else. Groan loudly if you need me.”

“Ha ha,” Rose says.  Juleka kisses her lightly on the forehead and leaves.

Rose drops into a light doze that she wakes from only when Juleka shakes her by the shoulder.

“fphkjtk—“

“Hey, Rose,” Juleka whispers.  “Chloe’s in the kitchen working on some, uh, business stuff or something.  I have to go for my shift now but I should be back before midnight.  If you get thirsty or hungry there’s Pedialyte and some ginger soda Marinette brought around in the fridge, and beef broth, and some takeout from our usual place if you feel up to eating something more solid.  Okay?”

“mfdkpfh.”

Juleka takes that as a yes, kisses Rose again, and leaves, closing the door most of the way.

Rose falls asleep again.


	16. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmark AU or: Wherein Rose Has a Not-Fantastic Morning

When Rose wakes up again she’s greeted by the sight of Chloe by her bed.

“You fell out,” Chloe says without preamble and without looking up from her laptop. “I figured that I’d better make sure you didn’t crack your head open or something.”

“Wh?”

Chloe rolls her eyes and produces a mug with a bendy straw sticking out of it and condensation beading on its sides.  “Drink something.  You’ve been sweating right through the sheets for most of the afternoon, you’re probably dehydrated.”

Rose eyes her, but takes the mug; it clinks with ice as she sips at it.

“How long was I asleep?” Rose croaks.

“Five hours or so,” Chloe says.  “Juleka called an hour ago, asked after you.  I told her you were resting.”

“Okay,” Rose says, “thanks.”

Chloe taps on her laptop as Rose leans back and tries to rest.

“Hey,” Chloe asks after a few minutes.  “What’s being with Juleka like?”

“What?” Rose looks up.  “Uh, it’s nice.  It’s nice.”

“Really,” Chloe says.  “Just ‘nice’.”

“Well you kinda asked me just out of the blue,” Rose says.  “Gimme a second.”

Chloe rolls her eyes, but allows Rose another minute or so of silence.

“Well,” Rose says, “it’s nice.”

“You said that already.”

“Well, it’s basically being able to always know that you’ve got someone there who’s going to be around for you, who’ll stand by you and support you, and wanting to support them just as much.  And it’s her making me happy and me wanting to make her happy too.”

Rose stops and blushes.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Chloe says.  “I asked.”

She goes back to tapping away on her laptop for a few seconds.

“Didn’t you date Ali for a bit?” Chloe asks.

“Yeah,” Rose says.

Chloe’s lips thin.  “What was different?  About him?”

Rose shrugs.  “Well, he was cute, and he was fun to be with, but at the end of the day his duty was to his country, first and foremost, and that wasn’t what I wanted or needed.”

“And Juleka gives you that?”

“She’s there for me,” Rose says.

Chloe’s fingers stop on her keyboard.  “Do you think she’s your soulmate?”

“Hm?”

“Like, you know.  Those cheesy romance stories where you have someone who’s one-hundred-percent meant for you and you just _know_ it somehow when you meet them?”

“You _read_ those on patrol, Chloe.”

“I never said I didn’t like them, I was just asking whether you thought Juleka was yours.”

Rose sighs and considers this for a second.

“Yes,” Rose says.  “I mean, when we first met I had the feeling that she was going to be with me for the rest of my life.  Somehow.” She tilts her head and considers Chloe. “Why are you asking me—oh.”

“It’s not that, just—“ Chloe shuts her laptop with a sigh and looks Rose in the eye “—Adrien and you and Alya and everyone else is just—happy—and lately it’s just been like—my place just feels—too cold.”

“There’s no one you’ve clicked with?” Rose asks.  “I mean, you and Sabrina—“

Chloe glares at Rose.  “Aren’t close anymore.  Don’t ask.”

“Hey,” Rose says, “I’m sure there’s someone who’s a perfect fit for you.  Somewhere.”

“I thought Adrien was that, a long time ago,” Chloe says, a little hesitantly.  “And then I thought I’d end up with Marinette for a little while, before she and Adrien got hitched.  Now—“ she shrugs “—I don’t know.”

“There’s someone out there for you,” Rose repeats.

“And how sure are you of that?” Chloe says.  She sets her laptop on the nightstand and rubs at her eyes.  “How do you know that, Rose?  You and Juleka may have found each other, and so did Ivan and Mylene, and so did Adrien and Marinette, but how do you know that I’ll find someone?”

“I don’t,” Rose says after a moment.  “I suppose that it’s an article of faith.”

Chloe manages a small, bitter smile.  “Even after how terrible I’ve been to you, you still think I deserve some measure of happiness.”

“I think you’ve changed.”

Chloe’s smile becomes a little more genuine.  “I’ve never apologized for how I treated you, have I?”

“I think I decided a long time ago that I didn’t care about your opinion of me,” Rose says.

Chloe blinks, and her expression goes wooden.

“Oh.”

“But I think you’ve changed.  And I think that I’m willing to change that decision too,” Rose says.  She smiles and holds out her hand.  “So.  Start over?”

Chloe looks at Rose, then at her hand.  She sighs, takes it, and shakes.

“Sure, let’s—“

Rose suddenly retches, and Chloe only just manages to get the bucket to her before something unfortunate happens.


	17. Thinking of Futures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoption or: Wherein Rose and Juleka Discuss Children

Rose leans her head against Juleka’s arm as they walk towards the subway station.

“It’s a shame we can’t see them more often,” Rose says.

“They’re six months pregnant,” Juleka says.  She deftly steers them out of the way of a woman pushing a stroller with a toddler inside, fast asleep and head lolling.  “And they’re both working full-time, and they’re both trying to get as much done as they can before they have to go on maternity leave because they’re workaholics.”

“And your point?”

“I’m honestly a little surprised they found the time to meet up with us at all.”

Rose snorts and leans a little more of her weight into Juleka.  “Yeah, all right.  Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t see them more.”

“Fair enough.”

“Hey,” Rose says as they pass a couple with a pair of wriggling babies slung on their backs, “you ever thought about having kids?”

“What, like IVF?”  Juleka shakes her head.  “Nah.  Just _watching_ Marinette and Alya makes me want to tear my ovaries out.”

“Well, there’s other ways to have kids, Jules.”

“Surrogacy?”  Juleka smiles as Rose elbows her in the side.  “No, yeah, I get you,” she says.  “Do you think we’d be good parents, though?”

“We’d be great parents,” Rose says.  “We’d tuck them in every night and tell them bedtime stories and take them to school and shower them in toys every Christmas.”

“There’s probably a little bit more involved than that, Rose.”

“You know what I mean, Jules.”

Juleka leans into Rose a little.  Her and Rose and a child, in their home, coming home to each other, wishing each other sweet dreams, kissing each other goodnight.  That was an attractive prospect, if a bit of a far-off one.

“We’re adopting an older kid,” she says.  “I refuse to deal with any of those kids in the vomity, poopy stage.”

“Jules!”

“What? They’re like little poop factories at that age, tell me that I’m wrong.”

“Oh come on, I had to take care of one of my baby cousins for a week once and it wasn’t that bad,” Rose protests.

Juleka gives her a sidelong look.

“Okay, fine, I hated it,” Rose concedes.  “But I was like, twelve or something, I hated anything that forced me to be vaguely responsible then.”

“And besides, it’d be practically a virtue,” Juleka continues.  “Older kids are less and less likely to be adopted, you know.”

“Okay, we’ll adopt an older kid,” Rose says.

“Great, I’ll call the agency tomorrow,” Juleka says brightly.

Rose elbows her in the side again, grinning.  “Maybe in a few years, Jules.  When we’re settled.”

Juleka smiles too and hugs Rose to her.  “Yeah, okay. In a few years.”


	18. Old Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pinky Promises or: Wherein Juleka Makes a Friend

Juleka remembers when she’d first met Rose.

They’d been in _école primaire_ then.  She’d been a chubby, short-for-her-age eight with the hairstyle of someone’s—hers—forty-year-old mother.  She’d been bookish and nerdy, but had been interested in the wrong things and had been too much of a girl to really be accepted by them.  Worst, she’d been an outsider, a transfer who’d just recently moved, or to be more honest been dragged kicking and screaming, to the city, forced to leave her old and comfortable surroundings by forces that she neither understood nor cared to understand.

Any one of these would’ve meant social suicide in a class with Chloe in it.  All of these combined and she might as well have taped the “Kick Me” sign to her own back and saved everyone else the trouble.

But Juleka had adapted.  She’d determined even then that she was going to be an Ellen Ripley, not a Hudson, and even whatever some discount acid-spitting monstrosity like Chloe could throw at her wasn’t going to stop her.  She’d let the abuse slide off of her without an iota of change in her expression, hid herself away from Chloe’s baleful intentions when they’d been let out for breaks and lunch, and in general did her best to make herself as small and boring a target as possible.

It’d worked.  Chloe soon only bothered with Juleka if there was literally no one else to torment, which left her free to do whatever she wanted, so long as it involved being well out of the way and not interacting with anyone, so pretty much reading a good book in some secluded part of the campus.  Which was fine.  Juleka liked books.

It’d still been a lonely few weeks before Rose had approached her.

She’d been sitting in the shadow of one of the school’s outbuildings, finishing a solitary lunch and fuming over how in her old home she’d be sitting down to her mother’s cooking right now instead of this poor, hastily-packed fare with typical pre-adolescent impotence.  She would’ve had that comic she’d checked out from the school library, at least—except Sabrina had made a fuss and now it was in the custody of their teacher until the end of the day.

There’d been little to distract her, therefore, when Rose had walked up to her and then stood there, fidgeting, her hands clasped behind her back.

Juleka tries to aggressively ignore the diminutive blonde girl for a minute or so, which fails to work.

“All right,” Juleka says, submitting to the inevitable.  “What do you want?”

Rose opens her mouth and fills it with silence.

Juleka opens her mouth and fills it with two slabs of rye, ham, cheese, and lettuce.  She glances up at Rose as she washes it down with a swig of lemonade, then takes another bite and chews through that.

“Uh,” Juleka feels compelled to ask after a while.  “Are you all right?”

Rose shuts her mouth, blushing slightly.  “Yeah,” she manages.  “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Juleka says.

“I, uh, got you your book back,” Rose says.  She brings her hands out from behind her back after Juleka gives her a patient, “I’m-sorry-what-are-you-talking-about” stare and offers the slim, glossy volume to the other girl.

“I mean, it’s not the one the teacher took,” Rose adds as Juleka puts down her sandwich and takes the comic, “but they had another copy in the library.”

“Thank—”

“I thought you’d want something to do over lunch,” Rose rushes on.  “I mean, I noticed that you were always sitting alone and I thought that you maybe you’d appreciate having something to do.”  Rose stops and bites her lip.

“Thank you,” Juleka repeats.

Rose fidgets some more before she says, “I’m sorry for how Chloe’s been to you,” and runs off.

Juleka watches as Rose turns the corner and listens as the rapid patter of her shoes against the ground dies away, then turns her attention to the comic.

It isn’t her comic.  There’s far too much pink in the cover art for it to be her comic, and unicorns hadn’t been involved as far as she could recall.

The suspicion flickers across her mind before she can quash it—was this Rose’s way of mocking her?  But it was just too charitable a gesture to really be cruel in any measure, unless Rose was just that bubbleheaded, which she wasn’t going to discount.

Oh well.  At least she had something to occupy the remaining hour.

She flips it open, settles against the wall, and starts reading.

Rose shuffles up close to her the next day, clutching something crinkling—Juleka glances up and sees that it’s a brown paper bag—in both of her hands.

“Uh,” she says.  “May I?”  She gestures with the bag; it crinkles.

Juleka considers Rose from over her book, then nods.

Rose carefully sets down her lunch, then just as carefully sits down beside Juleka, smoothing down the wrinkles in her dress.  She opens the bag and pulls out an orange and a couple of sandwiches in plastic wrap—ham and swiss on marble rye.

“That’s not the book you were reading yesterday,” Rose notes as she pulls out a bottle of milk.

“Finished it,” Juleka says.

“Really?” Rose says.  “You read fast.”

“I do,” Juleka says.

“Um,” Rose says after a minute.  “What’s this book then?”

“Charlotte’s Web.”

Rose brightens.  “Really?  I love that book.”  She takes a closer look at the cover.  “That’s in English, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”  Juleka glances at Rose and decides to take the risk.  “My Mama and Papa want me to learn three languages by university, so they’re pushing me to learn English ‘cause everything else will be easier after.”

“Why’s that?”  Rose frowns a little, and Juleka has to hide the blush that suddenly flames across her face behind her book.  Rose was cute when she was confused.

“Uh,” Juleka says, “well, uh, I don’t know.  I know my Mama always gets angry and shouts at my Papa whenever he makes a comment about how the English language alongside the—” she puts her book down and makes air quotes “—’Romance languages’ as one of the great languages of the world.”  She sees the look on Rose’s face and shrugs.  “He’s from England.”

Rose’s expression clears.  “Oh,” she says.  “What’s a Romance language?”

Juleka shrugs again.  “Probably something to do with kissing.  Mama and Papa start doing that about five minutes after they have that argument, usually.”

The rest of lunch that day is less unbearable than usual.

It fails to last.  Chloe picks up on Juleka’s improved mood and, in retaliation, turns the full force of her baleful attention on her.

Juleka curls up on herself, not bothering to wipe at the tears coursing down her cheeks or the snot pouring from her nostrils.  The sleeves of her shirt are soaked through in any case, so it’d be useless if she did.

Rose pokes her head around the corner, then, moving slowly, comes and sits next to Juleka.

“What do you want?” Juleka mumbles into her knees.  She curls up further as Rose scoots a little bit closer, close enough for their shoulders to touch.

“I just wanted to talk,” Rose says.  “You ran off after Chloe did her thing and I didn’t get a chance to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk,” Juleka says.

“Then can I just say something before I go?”

Juleka doesn’t object, or react at all, so Rose continues, quietly, “What Chloe said isn’t true.  She’s wrong.  About, you know, not having any friends and no one wanting to be with you and everything like that.”

“And how would you know that?”

“‘cause I’d like to be your friend,” Rose says.  “And I think she’s wrong about you being lame too.  I think you’re really smart and pretty and that your hair looks nice on you and that I’d really like to get to know you better.”

Juleka looks up at Rose through her tears and sniffs.  “You think my hair’s nice?”

Rose nods vigorously.  “Yeah.”

Juleka manages a weak laugh.  “You’re the first one besides my parents who think that.”  She wipes at her face with her hands, sniffling some more.

Rose smiles and extends her right pinky towards Juleka.  “Friends?”

Juleka, after a moment’s hesitation, links her right pinky with Rose’s.  “Friends.”


	19. The Long Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night In or: Wherein There Are Unexpected Surprises

Rose is woken by Juleka’s knee in her side.

“wh?”

“phne.  Yrs.”

“o”

Juleka rolls over and goes back to sleep as Rose sits up and rubs sleep from her eyes.  She picks up her phone and unplugs it from its charger.

She stares at the screen.

“From: Adrien Agreste

Hey guys, sorry but I won’t be able to make our meetup this evening  
something came up  
don’t worry about me just go on ahead”

Rose rereads the messages then looks at the timestamp: eight twenty-three.  Maybe a couple of hours before she and Juleka would need to stop napping and start getting ready to prowl the rooftops of Paris.  Usually Adrien would give them more of a heads-up than that.

Something twinges, deep down in the pit of Rose’s stomach.  She climbs out of bed, pads quietly out into the kitchenette, then dials Adrien.

The tinny electronic ringing is loud in her ear as she paces a circle in the title.

Okay, so maybe it’s just nothing and her paranoia is unjustified and she’s just wasting everyone’s time here calling him.  In all probability he just wanted to have a night in with his very pregnant wife instead of running outside on a somewhat muggy Parisian night with a bunch of weirdoes in animal-themed costumes.  That made sense, right?

Adrien picks up after the third ring.

“Hello?” he says.  He speaks quickly, his voice tight with strain.  “Rose?”

“Yeah,” Rose says, “yeah, hi Adrien, it’s me, I just got your message.  Is everything all right?  Do you need us to come in, or do anything for you or something?”

“No,” Adrien says brusquely.  “Look, we’re fine—”

“You and Marinette?”

“No, we’re—”

Adrien cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh.  “You’re not going to stop until I tell you, aren’t you.”

“I’d settle for you not making me worry anymore,” Rose says, “but sure, let’s go with that.”

“Fine.”  Adrien is quiet for the span of a couple of Rose’s heartbeats.  “Mari’s in a lot of pain right now.  We’re at hospital, and the doctor’s waiting to see us.”

His voice is dreadfully calm, the words measured and delivered with about as much inflection as might be found on a levelled floor.

“Where,” Rose hears herself say.  “Which hospital?”

“Damn it, Rose—”

“Which hospital, Agreste.”

Adrien is quiet again, and for a second Rose thinks she might need to scream.

“The Rochefoucauld,” he says.  “Look, you don’t have to—”

“I’ll call you when we’re there,” Rose says, and hangs up.

She taps out a quick group message to the others as she stalks back into their bedroom.  She rummages in their closet, digs out a pair of coats, and throws them onto the lump that is Juleka under their sheets.

“Hey,” Juleka says as she wakes with a snort.  “What the hell—”

“Mari’s having trouble with her baby,” Rose says.  “I’ve texted the others, they’ll meet us at the Rochefoucauld, hurry up and get dressed.”  She pulls out a blouse and a pair of jeans and struggles out of her pajamas, tossing them aside.

“Wha?”

“Mari.  Trouble.  Baby.  Hospital.”

Rose says the words with enough force to punch through the walls of their apartment.  They manage to break through the haze of confusion surrounding Juleka’s mind, and their effect is electrifying.  Juleka sits bolt upright.

“You know where?”

“The Rochefoucauld,” Rose repeats.  She looks down at herself, realizes that the blouse and jeans she’s wearing are both Juleka-sized, and starts struggling out of them.  “Here.”

“Do we need to bring anything?”

“Ourselves.  And, uh, maybe a flask of chamomile or jasmine, I think he’ll need it.  I’ll go make one up.”

“Rose, really?”

“Right, right.”

They’re met at the front doors of the hospital by Adrien, a clearly frazzled Nino, and an outwardly calm Alya whose fists, they notice, are still clenched tight on her purse, biting deep into the leather.

“Who’d you tell?” Adrien says, his face drawn and almost ghastly pale.

“Uh.”  Rose nods to their assembled group.  “And Chloe, and Ivan and Mylene, and—”

“I get it, I get it,” Adrien says with a wave of his hand.  “Everyone.  I figured.”

“How’s she doing?” Juleka asks.

“Still in a lot of pain,” Adrien says.  He turns and starts walking towards the entrance to the hospital, trailing the others behind him.

“How long has she been in there?”

“A few hours?” Adrien says.  He rubs at one of his eyes with the heel of his palm.  “I’m—sorry, it’s been—hectic—”

“Stop it, man,” Nino says quietly.  “You’ve done all you can for now.”

Adrien’s lip peels away from his teeth in a silent snarl as he stalks through the doors, exposing an incisor.  “I know that, Nino,” he says.

Nino shrugs, unperturbed.  “All right, man.”

“They’ll only let two visitors in at a time,” Adrien says.  “Her parents are in there now and I’m heading back in.  Who’s coming with me?”

“I’ll go,” Alya says.

A slow, shuffling parade follows.  First Adrien and Alya are buzzed in through the big double doors, to be replaced by Sabine and Tom; then Alya comes out and calls Nino in; then Nino comes out and fetches Juleka, who comes out a few minutes later and fetches Rose.

“Hey,” Rose says, speaking as though every syllable might shatter what stability was to be had in the blue-draped, antiseptic-smelling room.  “How are you doing?”

Marinette manages a weak smile, sweat beading on her brow, her face sheet-white.  “Well,” she says, “they gave me something for the pain, so I’m not quite as ready to kill something now.  “How are you?”

“Well, I’d like to think I’m doing a decent job as your replacement,” Rose says.

“You have been,” Marinette says.  “Well, maybe you’ll take my job permanagh —” Marinette doubles over, her pale face going paler, every muscle and tendon in her neck standing out in stark relief as she clenches her jaw against the rising scream.  Adrien is at her side in a flash, holding onto her hand; Marinette clasps it tightly, as though it were the only thing keeping her from plunging over a cliff towards the rocks below.

“Rose, get the doctor,” Adrien orders, as another wave of pain surges through Marinette and a weak groan escapes from between her teeth.  “A nurse, anyone.”

Rose stands stock-still, eyes wide.  Tikki flies up out of her clutch and slaps her, hard, on one cheek.  The spirit grabs Rose by both cheeks and stares her in the eyes, their gaze focused and commanding.

“Rose,” they say.

Rose blinks, her panicked stupor dispelled by the shock.  “Right.”

She sticks her head out of the room and yells, “Nurse!  Nurse!”

A stocky, older woman bustles up and glares at Rose.  “Keep your voice down,” she scolds in a harsh whisper.  “There are people resting here, you know, if you want to call one a nurse just use the intercom—”

Marinette screams, a full-throated, shrill sound of pure agony that lasts for a full five or six seconds.  The nurse glances at Rose, pushes her way past, looks once at the monitor, and runs out again, moving swiftly towards the nursing station.  She’s back in thirty seconds with a woman no taller than Rose is, a few strands of dark hair escaping from beneath a plain black hijab, her brown eyes flat and expressionless, her movements demanding that the world move out of her way lest it be trampled flat beneath the heels of her shoes.

Rose gets out of her way as she walks into Marinette’s room, her long white coat disappearing behind the blue curtains.  She considers looking in for a moment; the black look that the nurse, trailing behind, gives her, makes her reconsider.  She ends up standing awkwardly outside, wringing her hands as muffled conversation occurs, but is joined a minute later by the nurse and Adrien.

“Dr. Tawfeeq, I don’t see why I can’t be in there with her,” Adrien protests as he backs out of the room, “I’m her husband—”

“Out!” the terrifying little physician demands.  She glares at him, then at Rose for good measure, before she ducks back inside.  The nurse leaves a second later but stays between them and the entrance.  As a guard or something, Rose presumes.

A further two minutes of muffled conversation happens inside Marinette’s room before the physician comes back out.

“We’re going to perform a C-section and deliver your child, Mr. Agreste,” she says, her voice as calm as an Arctic sea.  “In my judgment it is the best chance we have of saving your wife and your child, but only if we act quickly.”

Adrien blanches.

“Your wife has agreed to the procedure,” she continues.  “We’re going to move her immediately to the OR.  Would you like to come along?”

“Uh,” Adrien says, “yes, of course.”

Dr. Tawfeeq looks at Rose and a hint of apology flickers across her expression.  “There’s only room enough in there for one,” she says.  “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“No,” Rose says as a pair of nurses rush into the room and come out pushing Marinette on her bed in her too-large medical gown, now breathless with pain, “no, it’s all right, I’ll go back to the waiting room.”

She sees the red streak of Tikki zip past her and into Adrien’s pocket as she turns to go and as Adrien, Marinette, and the doctor vanish into an elevator.

Rose walks numbly back out into the waiting room and collapses into a chair next to Juleka.

“Are they all right?” Juleka asks her quietly.

In the room, the words ring like a struck bell.  Rose finds herself the center of attention as the others, one by one, focus on her, waiting silently for her response.

“They’re going to deliver Mari’s baby,” she says.

No one starts shouting, or demanding more information, or anything.  They simply look down at their feet, the reality of the situation washing over them in an oppressive tide as they work it out, one by one.

The minutes tick by into hours as they wait, wrapped in the smell of antiseptic and fear and quiet desperation.  Chloe comes by at one, leaves after taking one look at the rest of them, and returns with coffee.  Some of them accept and sip carefully at the contents of their cups; others take them and set them aside for later, drifting into a light doze in the interim.

Ivan and Mylene come in just after two, followed shortly by Kim and Max.  Rose goes on another coffee run for the four of them, and comes back at the same time as Alix, who declines the offer of coffee and leans against a corner, her arms folded, face set in a neutral mask.  Nathaneal arrives at half past two.

At three, Adrien comes into the waiting room, looking worried and distracted.

Nino gets up and goes to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.  “Hey, man,” he says.  “Everything all right?”

“Huh?”  Adrien looks up at him.  “Oh, yeah, everything is, uh—”

He falters and looks up at Nino, then at the assembled group, then back down.  “Everything’s not fine,” he says.

He holds up a hand, interrupting them before they can overwhelm him with their concern.

“Emma’s fine,” he says.  “They delivered her just after midnight.  Four hundred forty-three grams, give or take a few.”

Sabine goes grey.  Tom holds a hand to his heart and leans against his wife.  Alya looks between the two of them, then closes her eyes and leans back in her chair, a hand on her belly, and whispers, “Oh no.”

“They’re still working on Mari,” Adrien says.  “The doctor said that she was bleeding a lot.  They brought in blood.  They’re still working on her.  They’re still working on—her—”

Nino grabs Adrien as his legs give out and helps him to the nearest chair, then holds him as he starts crying, quietly.

Adrien is still sitting there in his seat when Dr. Tawfeeq marches out through the double doors at four in the morning.  She looks around, sees Adrien bent over in his chair, elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on the industrial linoleum, his breathing slow and steady, his eyes reddened.

“Mr. Agreste?” she says.

Adrien looks up slowly as Dr. Tawfeeq approaches him.

“I have an update on your wife,” she says.

Adrien nods slowly, breathes slowly, his expression blank and fixed.  He refuses to look at her.  Dr. Tawfeeq in turn looks down upon him, her own tired and resolute, unyielding to the hour and to fear and despair.

Dr. Tawfeeq takes a knee and reaches out, placing her hand upon Adrien’s arm.

“You’ll be able to see her soon,” she says.  A small smile curls the corners of her lips and erases a decade off of her features.  “She’s stable, the bleeding’s stopped and we’re monitoring her, and we’re going to move her up to the maternity ward just as soon as we have a bed open.  We’d like to keep her there for a week or so, just to make sure that she’s healing well and that there aren’t any further complications, but we should be able to release her then.”

“Your daughter is doing well as well,” she continues, her face becoming a little grimmer, “I can assure you that she’s receiving the very best care we have, and that we’ll know more within the next couple of days.  I’d like to discuss the details with you in private.”

“When—” Adrien glances back at the crowd of worried faces before he turns back to Dr. Tawfeeq “—when can we take her home?”

“That will depend on a number of things,” Dr. Tawfeeq says.  “Please come with me.”

Half an hour later Adrien and Nino and Rose and all the others find themselves staring through a sheet of Plexiglass at Emma.

Her form is tiny, shrouded almost in its entirety by the tangled mass of wires and tubes taped to her.  A harsh, mechanical thhh-sssst, thhh-sssst fills the air in time with the almost imperceptible rise and fall of her chest, no doubt from some ventilator.

Adrien swallows and reaches out, laying a hand flat against the curved surface of the chamber in which Emma lays.

“Well?” Chloe asks.

“Fifty-fifty chance,” Adrien says.  “One in two that she survives.”

“Well, given the latest studies and the specifics of her condition it’s really more of a fifty-three or fifty-four percent chance of—” Max says before Kim elbows him in the side.

“Before you start whining about how this is all your fault,” Chloe says, “it isn’t.”  Her words earn her a quick glare from Alya, to which she rolls her eyes.

“She’s beautiful,” Alix says.  “Congrats.”

“Thanks,” Adrien mumbles, not taking his eyes off of Emma.

Rose sighs and puts a hand on Adrien’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry,” she says.  “She’ll be fine.  Just like Mari was fine.”

Adrien glances at Rose.  “You really think so?”

“Yes,” Rose says, smiling brilliantly at him.  “You’re literally married to Lady Luck, Adrien.  They’ll both be fine.”

Adrien smiles back at her, a little wearily.  He looks one last time at Emma, then turns away and walks out of the NICU, trailing the others behind him.

“I’m going to head back to Mari’s room,” he says.  “Thank you all for coming, but you don’t need to stay.”

“Dude,” Nino says.

“We’ll stay with you as long as we can,” Alya says.

“As long as you need,” Chloe adds, softly.

Adrien smiles at them again.

“Thanks,” he says.

They leave the room together as the night brightens towards dawn.


	20. Idle Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pokemon AU or: Wherein Rose and Juleka Attempt to Catch Them All

“Oh, sweet,” Adrien says, his eyes lighting up.  “Come on, guys, there’s a Blastoise that spawned just north of us on the Seine.”

“Why are we doing this Go whatsit again?” Rose mutters to Juleka as Adrien breaks into a fast trot, looking at his phone every couple of seconds.

“Because it’s fun,” Juleka says in a low voice, her attention seemingly wholly focused on her own phone.  “And Adrien and Marinette are really into it.”

“Okay, but—”

“And because we need something to distract Adrien from how his daughter has been in hospital for two weeks now and how his wife is still very, very weak and very, very anemic,” Juleka adds.

Rose pauses.

“Oh,” she says.  “Right.”

“Hurry up, guys,” Adrien calls back to them.  “We’re gonna miss it!”

“Stop walking so fast with your dumb stork legs, Agreste!” Rose calls back.

“Scurry faster, little bug!” Adrien shouts back, his words tinged with laughter.

“All right,” Rose concedes as they continue, moving a little faster to catch up with Adrien, “this is the happiest I’ve seen him since Emma’s birth.”

Marinette narrows her eyes at him after they get back.

“You Instinct son of a bitch,” she growls, pointing one of her knitting needles at him from where she sits on their sofa.

“Why, I am sure that I have no possible idea what you’re talking about, oh wife of mine,” Adrien says.  He leans down and kisses Marinette on the forehead.  “Is it all right if Rose and Juleka stay for lunch, Lovebug?”

“Don’t ‘Lovebug’ me, Adrien Agreste,” Marinette says.  “Admit it, you’ve been taking advantage of my infirmity to take over my gyms, aren’t you.”

“No idea what you’re talking about, love~,” Adrien says as he walks into the kitchen.  “I’ll just make some tea, shall I?”

“I’m onto you, Agreste!” Marinette calls after him.  “Make sure you use the good oolong and not that sludge you like, we have guests!”

Marinette turns back to Rose and Juleka, all smiles.  “Of course you two can stay for lunch,” she says.  “Mama and Papa are coming so it might be a little crowded—” she raises her voice “—but of course we can always make room if Adrien eats in the kitchen!”

“Love you!”

“Out of curiosity,” Juleka remarks as Marinette turns, sticks her tongue out at Adrien, and turns back to her knitting, rattling away with her needles, “what team are you?”

“Valor, duh,” Marinette says.  “Obviously it’s the best team.”

“Instinct rules Valor drools!” Adrien calls from the kitchen

“Very mature, Agreste!” Marinette says.

“You took my last name, Marinette!”

“Fuck you!”

“Gladly!”

Marinette rolls her eyes at him.  “But anyways I run most of the Valor gyms in town.  And by most I mean that I have control of almost a third of Paris and its outlying suburbs and run an IRL guild dedicated to keeping it that way.”

“She’s a menace!” Adrien says.  “A criminal mastermind!  She must be stopped—”

“Hurry up with the tea already!” Marinette replies.  She sets her knitting aside and leans towards them, steepling her fingers.  “Which team did he make you sign up with?”

“Mystic,” Juleka says.

“Valor,” Rose says.

“Hm,” Marinette says.  “I see.”

She turns and hollers, “You can’t fool me, Agreste!  I know this is all a part of your devilish plan!”

Adrien comes in with a plate laden with biscuits and hands them to Marinette, giving her a kiss on the cheek.  “What plan?  Tea will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Rose is obviously a double agent,” Marinette says.  “I’m meant to be all understanding and welcome her into my confidence and then bam she betrays me to you.”

“Obviously,” Adrien says.  He rolls his eyes and walks back to the kitchen.

“I’m onto you, you son-of-a-bitch!”

“I love you, Bugaboo~!” Adrien coos, sticking his head around the corner.  He ducks back into the kitchen as a kettle sets up a high whistle.

“Anyways,” Juleka says.

Rose studies Marinette as she and Juleka engage in idle talk.

Marinette is a wreck, in spite of her light, outwardly casual demeanor.  She sits, not straight-backed and proud but hunched over and with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders; her complexion, though much improved from her near-translucent pallor from a couple weeks ago, is still sheet-white.  Lines crease her forehead and bags stand out beneath her eyes; her eyes are red-veined and half-shut with weariness.  Her hands shake as she laces her fingers together, and as Rose glances at Marinette’s knitting, the results are evident: the knots and loops are uneven and twisted, more hole than yarn.

Rose swallows and looks away as Adrien brings them a teapot and several teacups and saucers.

“Still needs a couple minutes,” he says.  He kisses Marinette on the forehead, takes her hand, squeezes it tightly, kisses her again, and leaves.  “Any of you want any cream and sugar?” he calls over his shoulder.

“Me, please,” Rose says.

“All right,” Adrien says.  He comes back with a sugar bowl and a tiny china pitcher of cream and hands both to Marinette.  “I’m going to get lunch ready, dear,” he says.

Rose watches Adrien walk back into the kitchen.  When she looks back it’s to find Marinette looking steadily at her, a worn, slight smile creasing her face.

“I really look that bad?” she says.

“What?” Rose says.  “What, no, no, not at all.”

“Stop,” Marinette says, “I know.  Neither of us have been getting a lot of sleep lately.  Don’t need to sugar-coat it.”

“Emma?” Juleka asks.

Marinette nods.  “We see her as often as we can, and everyone says she’s doing fine, but, well, we can’t help but worry.”

She glances towards the kitchen.  “I think that the both of us just try not to acknowledge the situation when we’re not with her.  It just makes it worse, knowing that there’s nothing we can do.  Nothing anyone can do.  Even Tikki.”

She looks up at Rose and Juleka.  “Thanks for taking Adrien out.  He’s been driving himself sick with worrying over Emma and I.”

“No problem,” Rose says.  “Anything we can do.”

Marinette smiles at her and settles into the sofa.


	21. Lullabied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Favorite Song/Sing-a-Long or: Wherein Rose Hears a Lullaby

Rose stands and fidgets outside the NICU’s big double doors, trying not to eavesdrop.

“ _~bonne nuit~mon ange~_ ,” she hears, flowing faintly out from the room, against the mechanical snapping and hissing of pumps and other life support systems and other such background noise.  “~ _c’est l’heure de fermer les yeux~_ ”

And of course Tikki had gone with Marinette for moral support, which Rose couldn’t really fault either them or Mari for except that it left her here, alone, without any distractions in this house of the dying, filled with the long despair of those without hope for survival—

Marinette comes out of the room to find Rose pacing back and forth in front of her.

“Oh, sorry, Rose,” she says.  “Did I keep you waiting long?”

Rose stops abruptly and looks at Marinette.  “Huh?  Oh, no, not long,” she says.  “Shall we go?”

Marinette nods absently and walks up next to Rose.  As they turn a corner Rose hears a quiet electric zip and a weight settle into her clutch: Tikki.

“Thank you letting me borrow our little friend,” Marinette says in a low voice.

Rose shrugs.  “I’m just holding them and the earrings for you,” Rose says.  “By all rights they’re yours.”

Marinette smiles.  “Well, if you want to argue semantics like that, then technically I’ve transferred ownership of them to you for a time, so I’d still be borrowing them off of you.”

Rose waves a hand.  “Fine, fine,” she says, “fine.  You borrowed them off of me who borrowed them off of you, et cetera.”

“That works.”

“How’s she doing?” Rose asks as they reach the elevators.  Marinette thumbs the call button and stares at the closed, finger-grease-streaked, steel doors.

“Better,” she says eventually.  “She’s gaining weight.  Breathing better.  They still don’t plan on releasing her for another nine weeks or so.  But she’s doing better.”

“She’ll be twelve weeks then?” Rose asks.

“Yes,” Marinette says.

One of the elevators dings cheerily, the doors sliding open soundlessly.  Marinette and Rose get in.

“This entire thing must be a nightmare,” Rose says.  “You’re sure there’s nothing else that we can do to help you guys out?”

“Nothing we can reasonably ask you to do,” Marinette says.  The doors slide shut on them.  “I mean, you guys all have jobs and you’re looking for one, and on top of that you’re already defending Paris while I’m recovering—”

“I can look for a position in another couple months when you and Emma are all right,” Rose says.  “Really.  We have the savings, Marinette, another couple months of joblessness for me isn’t going to bankrupt us.”

“Rose—”

“Marinette, really,” Rose says.  “It’s all right.  You’ve done more than enough for all of us.  This is just paying you back.”

Marinette is quiet for a second.  “You’re sure it’s fine?”

“Yes, Mari.”

Marinette sighs.  “Why haven’t we started moving?”

They look.  Marinette, trying to avoid Rose’s gaze, punches the button for the ground floor.

“Look,” Rose says as the elevator jerks and begins its descent.  “How about you take a nap and I drive us back to your place?”

“I’m not an invalid,” Marinette protests.

“I’m not saying you are,” Rose says.  “But you’ll feel better for the rest.”

Marinette worries at her lip as they reach the ground floor.  The elevator doors ding cheerily and slide open, and they step out into the corridor as harried-looking nurses and visitors flood past them.

“Come on,” Rose says.  “We came here in your car anyways and there’s a station not far from your house.  It’ll take me fifteen minutes on the outside to walk there.  Or I can drive us to my place and you can nap and you drive yourself back.”

Marinette shakes her head.  “No, Rose, I can’t, I already asked you to come out with me—”

“I offered to come out with you because Adrien has work,” Rose corrects.

“My point being that I’m not going to ask you to go even further out of your way for me,” Marinette doggedly continues.

“Well, it’s a good thing then that I’m offering then,” Rose says.

Marinette looks sidelong at Rose, then sighs, fishes for her keys in her purse, and pulls them out.

“All right,” she says, holding the keys out; Rose takes them.  “Let’s head to your place first.”

Marinette wakes in her bed with a start and a snort of surprise.  She blinks blearily at her surroundings as her brain performs all its usual startup checks—arms, two, legs, two, fingers and toes, twelve since eight of them had fallen asleep, eyes, not working, husband, absent, Tikki, absent, Plagg, sleeping on her face, probably because Adrien wasn’t around for them to sleep on—

Marinette reaches up and plucks Plagg from her face, setting the snoring kwami on her pillow as she levers herself upright and rolls off of her bed, landing on hands and knees, tangled in her sheets.  She casts them off of her as she stands and shuffles to the door.

Adrien is sitting at their dinner table, reading the newspaper.  He glances over at Marinette and smiles at her like summer lightning as he drops his paper and comes to her.

“Feel better?” Adrien says.  He leans down and kisses her on the forehead.

“When’d I get back?” Marinette asks.

“About an hour ago,” Adrien says.  “Rose drove you back, I took you in, drove her back.”

Marinette’s gaze goes flat.  “Oh,” she says.

Adrien rolls his eyes and kisses Marinette on the forehead again.  “Rose said you needed the rest,” he says, and adds as Marinette opens her mouth to protest, “and she was right.  You’re running yourself ragged, Mari, and taking a quick nap isn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“I was fine,” Marinette mumbles.

“Rose said you passed out about two seconds after you tilted your seat back,” Adrien says.  “And you were so deeply asleep that you didn’t even twitch when I brought you in, including when I banged your feet on the doorframe.”

Adrien kisses her again, on the cheek this time.  “Go back in and get some more rest,” Adrien says.  “I’ll have dinner ready when you get up.”

Marinette grumbles under her breath as Adrien turns her around and steers her back into their bedroom.  “You both suck.”

“I love you too, honey,” Adrien says.

Across the city, Rose lays awake next to Juleka.  It’s not the constant roaring drone of their air conditioner that keeps her awake, nor Juleka’s weight half-sprawled across her legs as she snores away the sleep of the totally exhausted.  Those are familiar things, comforting things.

The constant refrain of Marinette’s lullaby runs through her head, its quietly desperate edge like a saw.

 _~Un jour nous serons tous partis~_  
~Mais les berceuses restent encore et encore~  
~Elles ne meurent jamais~  
~C'est ainsi que toi~  
~Et moi~  
~Serons~

 _~Elles ne meurent jamais~_  
~C'est ainsi que toi~  
~Et moi~  
~Serons~

_~Elles ne meurent jamais~_

Rose shudders and tries to shift her head into a more comfortable position, to a snort from Juleka.  She stills.

Would it ever be like that, if they adopted?  Her and Juleka, joined in fear and dread and always, always the gut-twisting of hope that you daren’t believe, the constant and necessary belief that things would turn out all right, the constant vigil in case it didn’t, because you never knew exactly how much time you had left?

Juleka rolls over.  “Babe,” she slurs, “I love you, but please stop talking to yourself.”

“Sorry,” Rose whispers.

Juleka rolls back over.


	22. Atlas Wept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventure or: Wherein Rose Gets a Mild Reality Check

Rose stands at the top of the Eiffel Tower and turns her face up into the rain, letting the cool drops patter against her skin.  The wind tugs at her now and again, but the night is otherwise still.

Why had she accepted again?  Because—

Because Juleka had.  And because where Juleka went Rose went, because where Rose went Juleka would surely go.  Within reason, of course, when Rose had gone to Germany for her Master’s work Juleka hadn’t moved with her, she’d stayed at home and visited when she could.  And because, well—

_“the world needs a ladybug”_

—that was what Marinette had said once.  A long time ago, when they’d been in lycée.  They’d been in an argument about what would happen if Papillon were finally found and brought to justice, if Ladybug and Chat Noir found their purpose fulfilled.

_“they’d go back to whoever they’d been.  they’re not needed anymore, after all”_

—Adrien had said.  He’d looked unaccountably sad at the time, which she’d thought had been a curious reaction right up until he and Marinette had gotten married and she’d found out that Marinette was in fact the Ladybug.  And Marinette had—

She’d been vehement.  And physical, at least to the extent that slapping her hand down on the desk had entailed, which was nonetheless enough to make all of them jump.

_“there will always be a need for chat noir and ladybug”_

They’d all stared at her for some time, in utter confusion if not just pure startled reaction.  She’d blushed Ladybug red but had persisted.

_“the world needs a ladybug.  and it needs a chat noir.”_

They’d still stared at her.

_“you know, someone willing to fight to keep people safe.  and someone willing to be with her when the going gets tough.”_

It was at that point, Rose remembers, that she’d burst out squealing about the possibility of an, ahem, Ladynoir romance, quite derailing Marinette’s train of thought and stopping any further coherent discussion cold.

The world needs a Ladybug.  Well, that was true enough.

Rose wonders if it needs her.

After all, the Ladybug is back on her feet now and getting stronger every day.  And she, well, she’d been doing this for years, while building up her company, while fighting off every attempt her competitors made to sink her, while fighting to get her name out into the world.

But that wasn’t right, was it.

It wasn’t right to foist her responsibilities onto Marinette just because she was a little tired of it all, a little uncertain.  It wasn’t right.

It isn’t right.

Still, Rose remembers when she didn’t need to worry about press conferences and always being ready to go on a moment’s notice and patrol and everything that came with being Ladybug.  When being Ladybug was nothing more than an adventure.

She never thought she’d be saying this, but Chloe was right.  Having the weight of the world on her shoulders like this, knowing that you were the only thing between chaos and destruction and—she shudders—death and millions of innocent people?  It was a shackle.  And one that no one could break.

Rose looks down and to the north and sees the others—Chat and Rena tonight—approaching.  The rain slackens a little as they make their way up the Tower, darkened for the night, and Rose hastily smoothes back her hair and does her best to straighten out her dress.

“Hey,” Rena says as she and Chat step onto the platform.  She walks over and kisses Rose on the forehead, then hugs her.  “Did we keep you waiting long?”

“No,” Rose says.  “Did you guys run into anything?”

“Nah,” Rena says, shaking her head.

“Rain’s probably keeping everyone indoors,” Chat says, his ears flat against his head.  “Which, frankly, is where we should be.  Shall we?”

They bid their goodbyes and leap off towards home.


	23. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knight in Shining Armor or: Wherein Rose Recollects
> 
> TW: Drowning.

Rose remembers when she’d been a part of Chloe’s coterie.

It hadn’t been a choice, really, not to her, not at the time, and not consciously.  All she’d known was that you had two choices: either schmooze up to the blonde girl who showed up to school in a limo and with bodyguards and with all the toys and glittery accoutrements and all the fancy clothing and wonderful shoes a girl could dream of, or be one of the people who got trodden on by her.  Sometimes literally.

Rose regrets the things that Chloe had made her—that’d she’d chosen to do under Chloe’s direction.

One more blessing, at least, being in a place where she could know the difference between those.

And how had that been?

When an odd girl, new to their class, her hair and manner and carriage dark and new to them, had shown up in the middle of the school year; and no crusader king nor Jeanne d’Arc herself could’ve cut a finer figure to her juvenile heart than Juleka Couffaine, small and dour and glowering at everyone beneath her fringe of dark hair, hunched in on herself as though trying to hide under her own shadow.

She’d determined to make a friend of Juleka on the spot, even if she couldn’t quite put words to the exact feelings that had rampaged through her.  A second lifetime later, when she was sixteen, her then-ten-year-old cousin had looked up from where she’d been idly reading on the floor, rolled her eyes at her, said “Oh my god Rose just make out with this Juleka if you wanna keep talking about her so much,” and, as Rose quietly freaked out about how, crap, she did want to make out with her best friend, went back to reading her magazine.

They’d made it official just before Rose had left for university, in a terrible moment where she could see she and Juleka driven apart by simple distance and circumstance, when Rose could’ve either braved the unknown and told her or let everything remain no more than a civil friendship—safe, but nothing more.

And that had been as much as it had been, hadn’t it.  Rose Lavillant.  Met Juleka Couffaine, discovered that she was bi, became Juleka’s girlfriend, earned her Master’s, became Ladybug’s substitute, died.

Died.

died.

Rose blinks away the waking dream that had just flashed before her eyes and struggles, one last time—her muscles weak with the lack of air blackness swiftly overtaking her vision lungs screaming as hot needles were thrust into them—against the bridge pinning her to the bed of the Seine.

No use.  Like it would when her previous struggles had done nothing more than pin her more securely to the silty muck and waste what breath she had managed to gulp when the bridge had fallen on her.

She tries nonetheless, again and again and again as the terror closes in on her heart and she regrets every opportunity she’d failed to take to tell Juleka just how much she’d meant to her and just how much she wished they could’ve had more time, more time together—

And then Juleka is there beside her, in the orange-and-black guise of Rena Rogue, and soon beside her are Chat Noir and Abeille.  They brace themselves—and push—

—and the bridge shifts, moving just a bit—

—but it’s no use, she’s too weak, and her muscles are as weak as the river that is soon to claim her—

—but now Rena—Juleka is in her face, screaming at her, bubbles streaming upwards, open fear in every garbled, unintelligible word and gesture as she grabs Rose beneath the arms and pulls—

—but Rose doesn’t budge and they need to go, they need to leave before they run out of air themselves—

—Juleka hauls again, and Chat and Abeille push, and even as Rose slips from the world of the living she can just feel the bridge shift—

—and then Rose finds herself on dry ground, vomiting up river water, coughing wet fire from her lungs and taking in the blessedly cool air instead, and beside her are Chat and Abeille, wiping water out of their eyes, and behind them is the shattered bridge, dissolving into a haze of glowing black motes, crumbling into rust as they watch.

“That was on me,” Chat mutters.  “Sorry I didn’t remember to Cataclysm that earlier, Ladybug.”

Rose is too busy coughing her lungs out to really respond to that.

“Right,” Chat says, his tone and demeanor hardening.  “Abeille, harry and harass.  Rena, take Ladybug out of the area and take care of her.  I’m going to go recharge, I’ll be back in three.  Understood?”

Abeille doesn’t bother with a verbal response, but just growls and lofts herself into the air, her wings beating a furious tattoo against the breeze.  She shoots off as Chat and Rena pick Rose up and take her from the fight, setting her down atop a terrace about ten blocks away.

“I should be back before anything happens, but if that supervillain comes back for you, run for it,” Chat says.  He nods towards Abeille, a flyspeck whirring above the rooftops.  “Keep an eye on her but don’t intervene unless something goes seriously wrong.”

“Got it,” Rena says, supporting Rose as she gasps for air.  Rose gives Chat a brief thumbs-up.

“All right,” he says.  “Stay safe, you two.”

He leaps off to—wherever, making sure Rose was going to be okay was more important than keeping track of that nonsense—as Rena leans down over Rose.

“hey,” Rose croaks.  She straightens carefully, then doubles over again in redoubled coughing.

“Sorry I took so long to get to you,” Rena says as Rose winces and holds her hand to her chest.  “Didn’t notice that he’d hit you with that bridge he threw.”

“s’fine,” Rose says weakly.  She finds one of Rena’s hands and holds it.  “came just in time.  regular knight in shining armor you are.”

She doubles over again in a fit of renewed coughing.

“You nearly died,” Rena points out, once the coughing has subsided.

“But you guys got me out in time,” Rose says.

She looks up at Rena, noting the subtle thinning of her lips, and knows that they’ll be arguing about this later tonight.  She brushes that concern aside.

“Look,” Rose says, her voice still hoarse but growing in strength, “I’m fine.  Soon as Catboy gets back you guys go and help out Abeille, and I’ll join up.”

“Uh,” Rena says.  “Babe.  You nearly drowned.  I am staying right here.  Chat and Abeille can handle this yahoo, they’re experienced.”

“No arguments,” she adds as Rose opens her mouth to protest.  She shifts her weight to support Rose more comfortably.  “I’m staying.”

“Mm.”

Rose doesn’t argue.


	24. Gridlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadtrip or: Wherein Rose and Juleka Discuss Vacation Plans

“Hey, Jules?”

“Hm?”  Juleka looks up from her book.  “Yeah, what is it, Rose?”

“Where do you want to go?”

Juleka blinks at Rose in surprise.  “Uh, what do you mean, ‘go’?”

Rose walks over to their sofa and flops down next to Juleka, her left leg dangling over the side, her right propped up on the arm.  She worms her way forwards on her belly until her chin rests comfortably in the space between Juleka’s thighs; Juleka absent-mindedly lowers a hand and starts massaging the crown of Rose’s head.

“I mean like, go,” Rose says.  “Take the car and load it up with snacks and just drive somewhere.  We never really got a chance to do that tour of the Black Forest when I was in school, didn’t we?  Or see some of those castles.”

“Rose,” Juleka says.  “We kinda need to stay in Paris.”

Rose sighs and pouts up at Juleka.  “I know,” she says.  “But I mean, like, when Marinette and Alya are ready to take their Miraculous back.”

“Well, what if we need to keep doing the job?” Juleka says.  “It’s not like they’re going to suddenly have big spots open in their schedule when they have their kids.  It’s going to be the opposite, if anything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rose says, waving a hand.  “I get it.  But we have lives too, Jules.  Adrien and Marinette and Alya and Nino and Chloe—all of them have lives already.  Why can’t we?”

Juleka bobs her head to the side in acknowledgement.  “But that also means that we’re freer to act than they are.  They have other obligations that don’t involve being a superhero, and we have fewer.”

—it’s a shackle—

Rose rolls over so that she’s looking up into Juleka’s face and frowns.

“I get what you mean,” she says, “and I’m not disagreeing with you, but there’s got to be a limit to these things.”

“I know,” Juleka says.  “I just don’t think we’ve really reached that yet.”

After a long pause she adds, “How did we get here from discussing vacation spots?”

Rose shrugs.  “So where would you want to go?”

Juleka puffs out her cheeks as she exhales, then chews at her upper lip, then taps a finger to her chin—

“Oh, come on, Jules,” Rose complains.

Juleka smiles, very slightly.  “Spain,” she says.  “Take the long way down the coast to Barcelona, then south to Gibraltar, see the North African coast from the peak.  Then drive back up towards Italy.  Spend some time there, maybe take a ferry to Sicily.”

“Do they have ferries to Sicily?” Rose asks.

“I think so,” Juleka says.

“And what do you want to do there?” Rose asks, reaching up and toying with a lock of Juleka’s hair.

“Use your body shamelessly,” Juleka replies instantly.

“Jules!”

“And maybe see some of the old World War II battlefields,” she continues, unperturbed.  “In between using yo—”

Rose swats her on the arm, holding back a tide of giggles.  “Jules, really.”

“And you?” Juleka asks.  “I know you mentioned a couple spots in Germany, but anywhere else?”

Rose makes a thoughtful noise.  “I’ve always wanted to do a riverboat tour.”

“Of which rivers?” Juleka asks.

“All of them,” Rose says.  “The big ones, at least.  There’s just something nice and peaceful about going down a big river.”

“Agreed,” Juleka says.  “Do you think we could splurge a little and get on one of those really big luxury boats where they have a sunbathing area at the back?”

Rose frowns in contemplation.  “They have those?”

Juleka’s phone lights up and plays a merry jingle, interrupting them.

“I’ll get it,” Rose says.  She rolls off of Juleka and  the sofa and and reaches over to where Juleka left her phone on the coffee table.

Juleka watches as Rose takes the call and her expression goes from open and happy to—still open and happy, but frozen.

“Uh huh,” she says.  “Uh huh.  Yeah.  All right.  See you there.”

“Adrien?” Juleka says as Rose hangs up and turns to her.

“Yup.”

“Not good news?”

“It’s not all bad news,” Rose says, voice careful.

“So what’s the good news?” Juleka asks.  “Trixx!  We need to get a move on!”

“Well, we’re going to get that roadtrip we were just talking about,” Rose says.

“Oh, good,” Juleka says.  “Where to?”

“Disneyland.”

Juleka groans.


	25. Connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Language of Love or: Wherein Rose and Juleka Have a Moment

Chat Noir is blown through a brick wall.

He tries to right himself in midair, but before he can he crashes through an interior wall and the piping contained therein, another interior wall, takes a brief stop to careen off of someone’s antique oak desk with enough force to crack the agéd wood, and then smashes through another brick wall—exterior, not pipe-containing, very sturdy, still painful—to land in a heap on the street outside.

He slowly picks himself up on hands and knees, coughing and holding a hand to his ribs as a fine mist of powdered brick and pulverized gypsum settles around him, adding to the muddy grime coating him.

“Ow,” he says.  Would have said, if he could have said.  His lips certainly made the appropriate shape, and his lungs pushed out the appropriate amount of air past his perfectly functional vocal cords.  All that comes out, though, is a silent “—”.

Chat blinks, then tries to vocalize again.

“—.”

He blinks in annoyance, sighs—silently—in annoyance, and curses.

“—, —.”

Behind him, Abeille is blown from the sky.  Her limp, stunned form arcs downwards, smashes face-first into a roof, and slides onto a terrace, accompanied by a small heap of roofing slates.

Chat curses again, and because it was looking to be that kind of day, looks back in the direction of the building he’d just been thrown through.  Ladybug and Rena fly through and over it, respectively, a second later, landing next to him, if such a dignified term could apply.

Chat sighs and gets up, helping Ladybug, then Rena, to their feet.  He glances at where Abeille still lies twitching in the rubble and taps Rena on the shoulder.

He points in the direction where they’d come from, jabs twice with his index finger, then slaps his fist into his open palm.

Rena, in response, mouths “what?”

Chat rolls his eyes at her, points again, and mimes a quick jab, then points again.

The building, already sporting a pair of gaping, people-sized holes, explodes.

Chat manages to tug Rena down to the ground and throw himself over her before any of the shrapnel, needle-pointed brick shards and scallop-edged shards of glass and people’s kitchen knives and more, slices into them.  Ladybug turns and drops into a low crouch, her arm held up against the blast, shielding her eyes.

A teenager, his costume a plain, unadorned leotard, steps up onto the rubble as the heroes regain their feet.  He spares them a brief, contemptuous look and opens his mouth—and a blast, a terrible, oppressively silent concussive wave slams into them, throwing them through the row of houses behind them.  Abeille takes to the air, darting desperately to avoid the teenaged supervillain’s attention, but to no avail.  A second soundless blast catches her left wing, snapping it out straight and throwing her into an uncontrolled tumble that ends only when she plummets through someone’s picture window.

“Okay,” Chat scribbles out on a sheet of paper after half an hour of ducking and running and hiding.  “So obviously we need to figure out something.”

Abeille, wiping dust off of her suit and wings with a towel she’d pilfered from the wreckage, scowls.  She reaches over, snatches the paper and pencil from Chat, and writes out, “thank you for that absolutely necessary” before Chat takes them from her again.

“So we can’t hear anything and we can’t say anything, or make any noise at all, as far as we can tell,” Chat writes.  “Although obviously the being deaf bit might account for—”

Abeille rolls her eyes at him and makes a “hurry it up” gesture.

Chat gives Abeille an annoyed look.  “We need a plan of attack.  He’s too good at taking out Rena’s decoys, and he outranges all of us, and he’s smart enough to stay in places where we can’t ambush him, so we can’t just rush in and hope to get in a lucky hit.  Bug, what do we have on the Lucky Charm side?”

Ladybug dutifully holds up a glass container of powdered white pepper for general inspection.

Everyone stares at it for a minute before Abeille takes the paper and pencil from Chat, scrawls “Okay, what, so we just throw this in his face or something or what” and hands it back to the others.

Chat, Rena, and Ladybug shrug in unison.

“Okay so that didn’t work new idea?” Rena writes ten minutes later, after Rose has had a chance to hide someplace and refuel Tikki.

“Well, we have the same Lucky Charm as before,” Chat writes.  “And Tikki was veeeeeeery peeved.”

“were the extra ‘e’s really necessary”

Chat jabs Abeille lightly in the side with his elbow; Abeille sticks her tongue out at him.

“Point is that we’re just not thinking about this the right way, at least according to Tikki.  And since they’re the literal goddess of unreasonably good fortune, I think that we need to figure out what—” Chat flips the paper over and goes on writing “—they intend for us to do with this.”

“I think it was just a matter of timing,” Ladybug writes.  “He can just take a step back and blow it away if he has more than a second’s warning.”

“Or just not breathe it in,” Rena adds.

“How does this change anything?” Abeille scrawls.  “We still need to provoke him into attacking someone then distract him then hit him with the pepper.”

“Well, Bug’s right, I think,” Chat writes.  “It’s the timing.  Gave him too long to react and he blasted us.  Maybe just Bug and I?”

“You want to give him fewer targets to concentrate on?  Really?”

“Easier to coordinate,” Chat argues.

“Easier to take down,” Abeille counters, writing so furiously that the pencil tears through the paper.  She scowls as Chat takes it from her and digs out a fresh sheet.

Ladybug takes it.  “Rena and I can do it,” she writes.  She adds, after the others have had a chance to read her message, “What?  We can.”

“You’re sure?” Chat writes.

“We can?” Rena scribbles.  Ladybug elbows her in the side.

Chat and Abeille look at them, worriedly.  Then they nod.

“All right,” Chat writes.  “How much time do you need to get in position?  We’ll give you cover.”

Ladybug and Rena watch from opposite sides of a boulevard some ten minutes later, watching as the supervillain approaches them, harried by Chat and Abeille.

He was almost close enough.  Almost.  Almost.

Now!

A silent wave of Rena’s clones swarm over the nearest buildings as Chat and Abeille back off.  The villain spares them a brief, contemptuous glance before he opens his mouth and screams, blasting them into insubstantial mist.

And now they have maybe five seconds before he has time to recover, five seconds of brief, superhumanly rapid action.

They can do this.  They can do this.

One.

Ladybug and Rena dart out of the alleys they’d secreted themselves in, Rena a bare pace ahead of Ladybug; the villain takes a swift step to the side, inhales, and draws back, preparing to attack.

Two.

Ladybug gets blasted first, but disperses into mist—a clone.  The villain swiftly turns to face Rena, still screaming his fury, and blasts her into mist as well.

When he sees this, he swiftly directs his attention upwards, but too late to stop Rena and Ladybug as they hit the ground, roll, and come up into fighting positions on either side of him.

Three.

Ladybug is forced to skip sideways as the villain screams at her, tearing up the roadway, but Rena comes in with a scything roundhouse kick aimed at his head that he just barely dodges.  She drops flat as the villain attacks her in turn.

Four.

Ladybug locks eyes with Rena, and an understanding is reached in that instant—commit.  Distract.  One second more.

Rena lashes out with a low kick that again fails to connect but does force him back on his heels and keeps his attention from Ladybug for a critical fraction of a second.

Five.

The attack costs.  Rena gets the full force of his soundless fury from point-blank range a moment later, and this time there isn’t the comparatively welcome sensation of being tossed through the air like a ragdoll or being slammed through a building.  She finds herself hammered into the ground in one long, endless pulse of crushing pain that only stops when he stops to take a breath.

Ladybug darts in and ends it.  She snakes an arm around his throat, holding him in place, and shakes a puff of white pepper powder into his face.

The villain tries not to breathe it in, but it’s too late.  After a second he starts sneezing violently, and though he tries to compose himself for long enough to go on the offensive, as Ladybug walks around him and helps Rena to her feet, he fails.

“Hail the conquering heroes!” Chat cheers that night.  They clink glasses and drink.

Abeille makes a face.  “You couldn’t have brought actual champagne instead of this?”

“We are not having a repeat of the karaoke incident,” Chat says, his smile fixed.  “Drink your cider.”

Abeille rolls her eyes at him and turns her attention to Rena and Ladybug.  “So, what was the kid’s story?”

“The usual,” Rena says.  “Bullied.  He was—is—deaf.  He wanted everyone to know what it felt like.”

The corner of Chat’s mouth twitches.

“We really need to talk to the mayor or something,” Rena says.  “Get him to, I don’t know, support an anti-bullying initiative, rewrite school policies about that sort of thing.  Would that be possible?”

Abeille gives a shrug with one shoulder.  “I wouldn’t know about that.  I’m a businesswoman, not a politician.”

Chat sidles over to Ladybug and nudges her with an elbow, making her jump.  “Hey, you all right?”

She blinks up at him.  “Huh?  Oh, yes, I’m fine.”

Chat snorts.  “Right.  What’s on your mind?”

Ladybug looks down at her cider, swirls it once in its glass, and downs it in one shot.  “I don’t know.  It was just—” she throws her hands up after a second or two of fumbling over words “—we let him rampage across half of the city and there wasn’t a single thing we could do.”

“But you stopped him,” Chat says, his tone gentle.  “And you did it cleanly, did it quickly, and did it efficiently.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder.  “That’s something to celebrate, right?”

Rose contemplates this as he walks back to join Rena and Abeille in their discussion.


	26. Necessary Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy Bear or: Wherein Rose Has a Necessary Chat

Rose finds herself walking aimlessly through Paris.

She’d lied to Marinette, when she’d called and said that she couldn’t go with her to see little adorable six-week-old Emma today.  Or—hadn’t lied, really, just not given the specifics.  She really did have something to do that had come up suddenly.

She just needs to figure out what that is.

She tries not to look around her, tries to keep her eyes pointed firmly downwards as she wanders, tries to avoid making eye contact with the not-dead, the walking ghosts, the almost-zombies surrounding her.  She fails; she bumps into a woman and—scurries off after a second wide-eyed with a melange of sudden terror and horror.  She sees a child—had she not seen her before, running or screaming or laying dreadfully still?

Rose shuts her eyes and makes a right, heading towards the park where she and Juleka had first agreed to become, for a while, heroes.  She traces out her path to the copse, her feet guiding her there automatically, and finds it occupied by a pair of teenagers in the middle of palpating each other’s tonsils with their tongues.

She makes an automatic about-face and finds a bench instead.

She smooths her skirt down, her back ramrod straight, closes her eyes, and breathes, listening to the sound of children shrieking—in laughter, not in pain or terror—and dogs barking, and people talking and enjoying the bright summer’s day.

Right.

This was as it should be.  Paris at peace.  Not consumed by terror, by fear, by pain.

But that’s how it would be, wouldn’t it?  If she screws up, this peace would be shattered, and the—screams—

Rose stands and walks off quickly, trying to keep her breathing controlled.

She runs face-first into someone and bounces off.

“Rose?” the man she’d just hit rumbles.

She looks up into Ivan’s face.

“All right, so what’s the problem,” he says some time later.  He hands Rose a mug of strong, sweet coffee and sips at his own—mostly milk, slightly sweetened—as he sits across from her at his and Mylene’s dining table.

Rose looks down at her coffee, then up at Ivan and the thimble-small mug cupped in his hands.

“Have you,” she says, “ever felt like in spite of everything that you do, you’re never doing enough?”

“Every day,” Ivan replies instantly.  “Getting to wake up next to Mylene every morning does that to you.”

Rose smiles wanly.  “I feel the same about Juleka.  But I mean, like.”  She gestures with her free hand.  “Have you ever been in a position where there’s just so much responsibility on your shoulders and you keep trying to do the best that you can but it’s never enough?”

Ivan stares at her, through her, and sips contemplatively from his mug.

“Like,” Rose says, “you need to do so much and you keep trying and trying and trying but there’s still so much you need to do and it’s just—”

Ivan gets up and brings Rose a box of tissues.

“Red Queen’s race, huh?” he murmurs as she dabs at her eyes.  “You run and run just to keep in place.  And you need to run faster and faster, and you still never gain any ground.”

Ivan takes his seat again, the wood creaking under his bulk as he leans back and studies Rose.

“I think you need to ask yourself,” he says after a while, “whether it’s worth running that race.”

He reaches out, picks up his mug, takes a sip of coffee.  Rose mirrors him.

“I don’t know,” Rose says.  “Someone needs to do it.  And I’m the only one who can, right now.”

“Then,” Ivan says.  “It sounds like you have your answer.”

“Yeah,” Rose says.  “I guess so.”

“Doesn’t mean that you need to like it, though,” Ivan says.  “And it doesn’t mean you can’t try to find someone to take your place.”

“But how can I just give that burden to someone else?” Rose says.

“Easy,” Ivan says.  “You’re obviously not thriving under the pressure.”

“But it’s not about me!”

“And you can’t help anyone if you drive yourself over a cliff.”

Rose pulls another few tissues from the box and blows her nose.

“There’s a limit to not being selfish, Rose,” Ivan says, voice gentle.  “Maybe you should think about whether you’ve gotten there, too.”

Rose takes a shaky breath.  “Maybe you’re right.”

“Maybe.”

Rose downs the rest of her coffee and stands.

“Thank you for the talk,” she says.

“No problem,” Ivan says, standing as well.  “Any time.”

Rose walks quickly over to Ivan and hugs him.  Ivan blinks in surprise but returns it.

“Thank you,” Rose repeats.

“You give good hugs,” Rose adds after a minute.  “You’re like a giant teddy bear.”

“Yeah,” Ivan sighs.  “Mylene says that too.  Usually when she’s drunk.”


	27. Auld Acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matchmaker or: Wherein Rose Plays Cupid

“Rose, I do not need—” Chloe tries to protest, but is quickly shushed by Rose.

“You’ll like it,” Rose assures her.  “And it’ll be good for you to finally have a night out instead of just being stuck inside all the time.”

“We go out most nights,” Chloe says.

“You know what I mean,” Rose says.  “Have fun bye~!”

Rose daintily taps the big red “end call” button before Chloe can protest further and places her phone onto the dining table next to her breakfast.

“Uh,” Juleka says.  She sets down her butter knife.  “What was that about?”

“I set Chloe up on a blind date,” Rose says, her voice tinted with just a smidge of smugness.

Juleka turns and looks with a proportionate amount of incredulity at Rose.

“Why,” she says after a couple seconds.

Rose shrugs.  “Well, she’s the only one of us who isn’t really happy with where she is, relationship-wise, and I figured that she deserved to be.”

Juleka rolls her eyes.  “Again I ask,” she says.  “Why?  This is Chloe we’re talking about.  She’s improved from when we were still in school, yeah, but she’s still about seventy percent condescending and twenty-five percent selfish and whiny.  And frankly, you could compare most people favorably to Chloe from when we were still in school.”

“Doesn’t mean that she doesn’t deserve a little happiness.”

Juleka looks at Rose.  “Uh.”

“Look,” Rose says.  “Chloe is Chloe, but I’m me, and I think she deserves a little more in life than just, y’know, work and, well, more work if you want to look at what we do at night like that.”

Juleka sighs and presses the tips of her fingers to her temples and cheekbones.  “All right, all right,” she says after a minute.  “It’s not like I can stop you—or want to stop you from making someone’s life a little brighter.  Even if that someone is Chloe.”

Rose beams.  She takes a sip of her coffee.

“Also, do you want to go out to do something tonight?”

Juleka freezes halfway through buttering her croissant.

“I mean, I know we were just going to have a quiet night in since you have the day off, but I figured that it’s been a while since we’ve had a date night, so—”

“You want us to spy on Chloe and her date, don’t you?” Juleka says.

“Well, I wouldn’t say spy, really,” Rose says.

“Rose.”

“Okay yes I want to see how it turns out.”

“No, Rose.”

“Come on, Jules—”

“Don’t Jules me, Rose, let Chloe have her night.”

Juleka pauses, studying Rose’s expression.  “Who is Chloe going out with?” she asks slowly.

“Nnnnno one—”

“Rose, who?”

Rose pretends not to hear, even as she squirms under Juleka’s glare.

“Tell me or I’m not kissing you for a week, Rose,” Juleka says.

Rose slurps noisily at her coffee.

“Two weeks.”

“Okay fine,” Rose says, deflating.  “Nathaneal was free.”

Juleka groans.  “Rose, why him of all people?  He despises Chloe.”

“Well, she’s changed.”

“Does he know that?”

“And the mayor has this beautification project thing going on and Nathaneal mentioned how he’s wanted to do some real art again recently.”

“And how is this going to keep him from walking out of whatever restaurant you’ve booked for them the instant he sees Chloe?”  Juleka’s glare intensifies as Rose’s expression grows guiltier.

“I may have mentioned that I could set him up with someone who could maybe, uh, possibly help.  Him.  With that.”

“So he doesn’t know that this is a date?”

“Possibly not.”  Rose brightens.  “But business dinners are a thing and those are kinda like dates, right?”

Juleka looks flatly at her girlfriend.

“No,” Rose says.  “I guess not.”

Juleka finishes buttering her croissant and takes a bite before sighing through her nose.  She chews for a second, then swallows.

“All right,” she mutters.  “Looks like we’re spending the evening making sure that this mess of an evening you have planned doesn’t go too haywire.”

“Okay, so let’s recap,” Rena yells at Ladybug later that evening as the two of them duck under a fallen support beam as the restaurant burns around them, dragging Nathaneal’s unconscious body behind them.  “We come here half an hour early and get in by claiming that we’re friends of Chloe’s—”

“Well, we are,” Ladybug says.  She kicks a table out of the way and grabs Nathaneal’s legs.

“—and then Nath got seated right next to us and we spent most of dinner trying to make sure that he didn’t see us.”

“We succeeded, didn’t we?”

“—and then Chloe came in, saw Nath, saw us, and started yelling at you, and then all four of us somehow ended up in the kitchen, yelling at each other.”

“Mm.”  Ladybug considers this timeline of events as Rena recounts them.  “Yes, pretty much, but we ended up in the kitchen because I said that maybe we shouldn’t be arguing in public and I think we just migrated there somehow.”

“—and then the chef lost it, got possessed by the akuma, killed someone, Nath fainted and now we’re trying to run for our lives.”

“Yeah.”

“Rose?”  Rena shoulders aside some rubble and kicks open the front door.

“Yes?”

“No offense, but please never try to organize a date for us.  Ever again.”

Ladybug tries to look offended.


	28. Dragon Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disney/Dreamworks AU or: Wherein Plagg Discovers Cosplay and Juleka Suffers

“I honestly still can’t believe that Chloe and Nathaneal of all people are going on a third date,” Adrien says.

“Please stop calling them dates, they’re business meetings,” Juleka says, rubbing at the bridge of her nose.  “When you go on dates, you go and watch a movie or go to an amusement park or a festival or something.”

“They’re going out for lunch,” Adrien points out.

“Just to discuss the number of murals, the locations, and the final pricing,” Juleka says.  “And for crying out loud Chloe’s dad is going to be there.”

“Introducing him to the parents—”

“One more insinuation that this is a date or that they are dating and I’m pushing you off of a building, Adrien,” Juleka says.  “I get enough of Rose being smug at me at home, thank you, I don’t need you doing it too.”

She practically feels his answering smile.

“Well, they’re getting along, which is what matters,” Adrien says.

“Tolerating,” Juleka says.  “A détente if you want to get fancy.”

“Tolerating each other.  Same difference.”  Adrien’s tone turns serious.  “Anyways, this isn’t just to catch up; I had a favor to ask of you.”

Juleka blinks.  “Name it.”

“Mari and the in-laws are headed out for a quick weekend getaway,” Adrien says, “but there are some things that I have that need watching.  Mind if I bring them over?”

Translated: will not be in Paris, impractical to come back at moment’s notice.  Take custody of yet another kwami, please.

“Sure,” Juleka answers.  “When?”

“When’s best?”

“Uh, any time after four,” Juleka says.

“Great, thanks,” Adrien says.  “Sorry for asking on such short notice.”

“It’s no problem,” Juleka says.  “Call me when you get here?”

“Of course.  Later.”

“Later.”

“Sooooooooooooooooo,” Rose says, sidling up behind Juleka as she hangs up.  “How are—”

“One more word about successfully playing matchmaker for Nath and Chloe and I’m breaking up with you,” Juleka growls.

Adrien comes by at sixteen to five.

“Sorry for coming by so late,” he says, lugging in a cat tree and a scratching post balanced precariously on top of it.  He leaves and returns with a bundle of brightly colored toys on strings and a bag of catnip.

“Uh,” Juleka says, staring in confusion.  “What’s all this for?”

“Plagg,” Adrien says, hauling in a bag.

“But they’re not an actual cat,” Juleka says.  “They’re a tiny god of decay and entropy uncounted thousands of years old.”

Adrien snorts.  “Yeah, tell that to Plagg.”  He reaches into his shirt, rummages around for a second, and pulls the kwami free.

Juleka stares at Plagg, who for all the world looks like a little felt dragon.  A very familiar little felt dragon, with a fringe of black felt knobbly ear-whatsits around the crown of their head and a pair of wire-stiffened wings on their back, and, most distinctively, a bi-colored pair of tail flaps, one red, one as black as the rest of Plagg’s coat.

“I’m sorry, but,” Juleka says after a few stunned seconds.  “Why is Plagg dressed up as Toothless?”

Plagg opens a mouth filled with needle teeth in a toothy smile.

“We were watching the How to Train Your Dragon trilogy the other night,” Adrien sighs.  “Plagg got invested and coerced Mari into making them outfits.”

“Well, she certainly did a good job making it look faithful to the films,” Juleka says.

“That is possibly one of the only good things about this situation,” Adrien says.  He presses a set of cookie cutters, all the same shape, into Juleka’s hands.  “Plagg wants all their Camembert cut into fish shapes now, too.”

“And that’s just weird,” Juleka says.

“Anyways, if you need anything give me a call,” Adrien says.  “Though hopefully the weekend will be quiet enough that you won’t need to.”

“Hi, Juleka,” Adrien says resignedly some hours later.  “I am assuming that something is on fire?”

“Yes,” Juleka says.  “And Plagg is refusing to help me transform.”

“Ugh.”  Adrien pinches the bridge of his nose.  “Yeah, I thought this might happen.  Plagg has been severely in character all week.”

“Which means?”

“Act like Hiccup,” Adrien says, to be met with dead silence from the other end.  “It’s weird, I know, but it’s necessary.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘act like Hiccup’ Adrien—”

“Anyways it sounds like you guys have things under control so bye have fun don’t get killed!”

He hangs up as Juleka is about to respond.


	29. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diamond or: Wherein Rose Has Limits

“Hey, Rose,” Juleka says as she finishes drying her face and walks back into their bedroom.  “Come on, I know we had a late night last night but we need to go, the others will be expecting us soon.”

Rose, a little bundle of blankets in the middle of their bed, fails to stir.

“Come on, Rose,” Juleka says, nudging her.  “I know that you hate patrols but we really need to go.  It’s getting late.”

Rose curls up tighter on herself.

“Rose?”

Juleka walks over to the other side of the bed and kneels, bringing her face level with Rose’s.

Rose is crying.

Tears stream silently down her cheeks, soaking the pillow and the sheets beneath it.  Her eyes are as red as her namesake, her complexion blotchy, her gaze blank and distant and listless.

“I can’t,” Rose mumbles.  “I can’t go out there.  Not again.”

“Rose, you’re not making sense,” Juleka says.  She reaches out and presses a palm to Rose’s cheek, and the motion seems to refocus the distraught woman.  “Why can’t you go out on patrol tonight?  Are you sick?  I’ll tell the others, they’ll understand—”

“No, it’s not that,” Rose says, her voice soft and trembling.  “I can’t—I can’t be Ladybug anymore.”

Juleka blinks.

“What do you mean by that?” she asks after a moment.  “You’re doing fine as Ladybug—”

Rose’s voice cracks out like a whip.  “No I’m not,” she says fiercely.  “Every time we go out on parade, or whenever we end up needing to go on one of those stupid talk shows, or every time we need to give a speech or pretend like I’m a hero for everyone’s benefit I feel how much of a failure I am.”

“Rose, we’ve been over this before,” Juleka says.  “You’re doing just fine as Ladybug, and everyone you’ve saved, everyone you’ve helped, every person whose lives you’ve made better believes that.”

“And what about the people I haven’t saved, or helped,” Rose says.

“Tikki’s got those covered,” Juleka says.

Rose smiles as though she’d just eaten a piece of lemon peel.  “Making up for my shortcomings,” she says.

“It’s not like Marinette doesn’t have her share of property damage to deal with too after every fight,” Juleka says.  “It’s not like you’re doing any worse than her in that respect.”

“That’s not the point,” Rose says.  She closes her eyes.  “Everyone just—needs me so much.  They need me and they need me and they need me and I keep trying a—and trying but it’s just so much.”

Juleka stands up and sits on the bed as Rose starts to tremble.

“Rose, love,” she says quietly.  “You want to stop superheroing then that’s fine by me.  But please believe me when I say that you’re a fantastic Ladybug, and you’ve done amazing.”

They stay like that, Juleka sitting beside Rose, Rose curled up and trembling, eyes squeezed shut against the world, for some time.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Rose says.

Juleka leans down and presses a soft kiss to Rose’s temple.

“Okay,” she says.


	30. Brighter Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yours, Mine, Ours or: Wherein The Shackle is Broken

The only sounds in Marinette and Adrien’s apartment are the ticking of an ornate ornamental clock and the sound of cloth against cloth as Marinette rocks Emma.

“You’re sure about this?” Marinette asks.

“If you don’t have any problems with it, yes,” Rose says.

Marinette takes a steadying breath, then nods.  “All right.”

Tikki vanishes as Rose reaches up and carefully, deliberately unfastens one earring, then the other, from her ears.  “I believe these are yours,” she says wryly, holding them out to Marinette on her open palm.

Marinette hands Emma to Rose, who accepts with her free hand, then puts the earrings on.  Tikki immediately pops back into existence.

“And now things are mostly back to normal,” Rose says with a sigh.

“Mostly?”  Marinette frowns.  “Oh, right, Juleka.  Do you know if she wants to give it back to Alya as soon as possible?”

“We’ve talked about it,” Rose says.  “Alya’s fine with taking her Miraculous back six months after she delivers Emil.  We figure that gives her enough time to recover.”

Marinette picks up Emma as she starts to stir and begins to rock her in her arms again.  “Is it weird that I’m really worried about Alya?  I mean, I know she’s only a couple weeks overdue but I can’t help but be concerned that something might be wrong.”

Rose shrugs a shoulder.  “I think that maybe you’re just worrying because you had that trouble with Emma.”

Marinette hugs her child tighter to her in an involuntary movement, and Emma wriggles as she’s suddenly squeezed.  “Probably.”

“Anyways,” Rose says,, “I’m obviously keeping you.  I’ll see you later, then.  Probably saving the day.”

Marinette almost protests before she sees the look of terrible weariness in Rose’s eyes.  She gets up and sees Rose to the door.

“Wait,” Tikki says, just before Rose steps outside.

Rose blinks and turns to face the kwami.

“One last hug?” the kwami asks, holding out its stubby arms.

Rose smiles, leans down, and hugs Tikki.  She draws away after a second and kisses the spirit on the forehead.

“I’ll miss you,” she says., to which she gets a giggle.

“You can always come and see me if you want, Rose,” Tikki says.  “And Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve had a lot of exceptional Chosen,” the spirit says.  “And I would definitely count you among their number.”

Rose offers up another lightning smile before she closes the door behind her and leaves.

She breathes in the free air outside, feeling the brisk autumn seep into her, then sets off for the subway station, ignoring the stares she gets as she begins to skip her way along the sidewalk.

Juleka sees fit to comment when she gets back.

“Hey, Rose,” she says, looking Rose up and down.  “Sorry if this sounds weird, but you seem, uh.  Looser.  Lighter.”

Rose pauses in her humming as she hangs up her light knit coat.

“I feel lighter,” she admits.  “Freer, I’d say.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you don’t have the weight on your shoulders anymore, I guess,” Juleka says.

Rose nods in agreement.

“I’m going to go nap,” Juleka says.  “Wake me up in half an hour?”

“Sure,” Rose says.  She walks over to her chair at the dining table as Juleka disappears into their bedroom, then, brimming with a sudden nervous energy, gets up and makes herself a mug of peppermint tea.

She breathes in the fragrance as she looks out the window, at the city below, caught in the middle of its post-lunch torpor.

So Juleka would be back to normal in six months, and she’d have a job by then—at least if her second interviews panned out.  And then Jules could go to cosmetology school like she always wanted.  And then?

Rose smiles into her tea as she sips.

Well, they’d just have to make their future themselves.


End file.
